Archive for February, 2010

Always wanted a chemistry set.  Never got one.  Never took chemistry either.

I did pretty well in the sciences I studied.  I just never got around to chemistry.  Needless to say my knowledge of chemistry is limited.

I know to never mix NaClO +NH3 (bleach and ammonia).  Basic chemistry, but important.

I know several tricks using NaHCO3  (baking soda) which will amuse small children.

I know no matter how much you shake oil and vinegar, they never mix, they only co-exist.

It would be accurate to say my knowledge of chemistry is more domestic, than organic.

I don’t even pretend to understand chemistry, but I have experience with it.   I can readily recognize bad chemistry. And good chemistry???  Let’s just say I know it when I feel it.

It’s a Yin & Yang thing–and there‘s plenty to be said for that.

Yangs like Yins–they like Yins a lot.  Maybe Yins don’t like every Yang, but they like Yangs.

Yins are like those positive charged particles–always seeking a bond.   More specifically, most wish to form bonds with Yangs.   The effect of a Yin on a Yang is sometimes disruptive enough to turn a Yang into a free radical.

BUT . . . if it works out well–that’s chemistry!

Sometimes it repels Yang.  In those instances,  it’s not chemistry, it’s  that other branch of science–where one learns that magnets have the power to both attract or repel.   That’s electricity.   ( I studied that science.  It seemed important considering my fond reliance on appliances. )

For better or worse–sometimes Yin & Yang form a bond.   Might be electricity.  Might be chemistry.

When this happens, it always seems like chemistry.  However, sometimes after they’ve hooked up,  they discover, what they thought was chemistry, is more akin to a recipe for a basic vinaigrette.

In other words, no matter how long they’re together, they’re still two separate elements with their own qualities.  In which case they must continually to work to mix it up, or face the inevitable separation.

This causes some Yins and Yangs to wonder “why bother” to try to make bonds with such unlike elements.  Why force the issue?  Why not just form  bonds with like elements, like Yang & Yang or Yin & Yin?

It works well that way for some.  Me?  Not so much.

I always find that a plug and an outlet are way more useful than two plugs or two outlets.  (Another lesson from that other branch of science.   They covered it in biology too–I got straight A’s in both. )

Sometime in the future, we’ll talk about the outlet/outlet thing.  (I’ll leave the plug/plug thing to those, for whom, it’s a possibility.)

Chemistry?  Electricity?  Whatever!

Sometimes what attracts us, is beyond our understanding.

Oh yeah, one more thing– I’ve found that a spoonful of tahini will emulsify vinegar & oil to make a superior vinaigrette.  It’s just basic chemistry.

People are starting to ask me questions about blogging.  What I know is very limited.
I know more than I did six months ago. I know more than I did in 2009. I know more than I did yesterday.
It’s all new to me.  Hopefully my blissful ignorance isn’t too apparent.
When I started this process, I did my homework–at least as well as when I was a college freshman.  Tried to give it my all, but sometimes  I missed things.
I read lots of professional bloggers’ opinions on how often to post.  Their opinions varied. Spent the last few weeks trying to determine what would work for me.  At least for now, this is how this bloggerette will roll.

Subject to change, here’s the Run of Schedule (ROS)
I’ll be posting Monday, Wednesdays & Fridays–aiming for something worth the search & click.
Tuesdays & Thursdays if I post it will probably be tweet-esque–you know what I’m talking about–the free-flowing, off the cuff, self-indulgent,  frivolous, insubstantial stuff your tweeter friends subject you to.
Saturdays & Sundays?   Those are days for people who didn’t get to the stuff from the previous week–the people, who unlike me,  work for a living.   It’s unlikely I’ll be here then, because even though I don’t have a job, I still love the weekend!  No matter.  Invite your friends and make yourselves at home.
I wrote a lot during football season.  Now that basketball season is here, I find TV to be teensy bit more interesting.  If I can pull myself away from The Los Angeles Lakers & The Orlando Magic I should be able to keep it coming.  We’ll see. Come playoffs who knows?

My very first retraction?

Without the aid of fact-checkers or a crackerjack editorial staff, it was only a matter of time. I just didn’t expect it to happen on the very first day. Only a week old, and already de blog has come close to libel.

Thank God, the victim has no angst, and the lawyers would find it laughable.

In my premier post on de blog, I shared an account of having received roses, which I believed to have been ill-gotten. I believed this, because, some days after they were received, I got a call from an investigator who indicated that they had been sent illegally through some kind of floral wire fraud. I had assumed the sender to be the perpetrator of the fraud.

Shocked and vindictive, I reached for my little black book and gave the investigator the sender’s name, his address, his phone number, shoe size, et cetera. In my head, Sergeant Friday, or someone of that ilk, would soon be surprising my flower fraud friend with an arresting knock on the door.

By some kind of cosmic coincidence, the path of the maligned flower-sender crossed my own, just after the debut of de blog.

Still smug, indignant, and always eager to promote, I suggested he read what I’d written about him in de blog. His reaction, to what I intended as a literary slap, was something akin to, “Huh?” He didn’t recognize himself anywhere in the article.

The incident occurred many years ago, so I figured either, he was getting too long-in-the tooth to remember; or he was just a typical, “I-don’t-remember-that” male. He insisted he was neither disingenuous, nor senile. I decided it was time to refresh his memory and call him on that action.

As I recounted the story of the phone call from the investigator, he suddenly knew what I was talking about. He had also received a call from investigators trying to figure out who was perpetrating the fraud. He had never thought any more of it.

(I, on the other hand, had thought about it. Specifically, I wondered if there were other girls who had received beautiful vases filled with fraud-blossoms.)

What he told me next was as charming, as it was sincere. I knew he was telling the truth. That knowledge caused me to feel like a heel–and by heel, I don’t mean one of the cute ones, like those on my favorite Kate Spade pumps. He said he distinctly remembered the act of writing the check for those roses.  Specifically, he remembered how good he felt sending them. He didn’t really remember how much they cost him, but he remembered it was a serious wallet hit, for a guy just starting out.

I knew he was telling the truth. More importantly, I knew I was wrong.

Now if I hadn’t already promised that I’d try not to bore my readers, this would be the point at which I’d begin a treatise on how good communication is the key to avoiding misunderstandings in relationships. But this is de blog, where passé is boring, and boring is passé, so back to the issue at hand.

I maligned this person; also bad-mouthed and distrusted him for most of a decade. Because of what I believed to be true about the flowers, my perceptions of him were inaccurately colored. I cut ties to him. I avoided him. I believed him to be unscrupulous.

It would be funny now, if I didn’t know better. That is why, I am truly sorry to be apologizing, so late, to a guy, who is as terrific today, as he was so many years ago when he sent those beautiful flowers.

Not only that, but he’s totally deflated the premise of my Valentine’s Day piece, that guys rarely get it right when it comes to romance.

Matt, the roses were spectacular, so spectacular, I still have this photo of them.

I’m sorry. You got it right. I got it wrong.

NOTE: Matt & I were friends long before that vase of roses was delivered. After so many years, we are friends again. Today he is a writer—among other things. He has shared his tremendous insight and given me much to think about in regards to de blog. The flowers, may have caused me to miss a romance, but they have given me something much more substantial by reestablishing a friendship.

One more thing–the roses? At the time I received them, I was told they were Sonyas—a rose prized for its sweet fragrance. Today they are at least as sweet as they were then.

Over the months since its conception, de blog has been the most prominent subject in my head.  Having de blog is way more satisfying than talking about having “a blog” was.  I owe much to many, for  the support given to me in the process—especially from all the friends who had to listen to me talk about it ad nauseum.

I had set a deadline for getting it “up”.  In order to meet that deadline, de blog premiered with a few bugs, some are still being worked out.  I am learning as I go, but it feels great to finally be here.

I couldn’t have done it without a little help from my friends.  I am especially indebted to the tech-types who helped me with stuff that was all new to me.  I LOVE GEEKS!

I am very thankful to Jerry “what a great guy” Warmkessel for helping me get the ball rolling.  The day we secured this domain name was a day of great significance to me.  Jdub, thanks for everything.

Also at the top of the list of people to who I am indebted is Anita of ACA Web Consulting.  Jerry and Anita gave me lots of help, but most importantly, they gave me peace of mind over things that would have driven me crazy.

Working with Anita has been effortless.  There probably isn’t anyone who could have done a better job translating my ideas into XTML, HTML or whatever it is she speaks.  The site is still constantly changing as we work to refine things, but it’s all good.

There is so much more work in the future, than what is behind, but the upcoming, is exciting!

In the future, you can look forward to debuts—reviews of stuff.  Product reviews, music picks & other stuff about stuff.   I’ll even be reviewing a couple of my favorite prescription pharmaceuticals.  You won’t want miss that.

Also in the hopper are the diablogues; interviews with people who are just interesting.  To me, interesting trumps famous, but if any famous people approach me and beg to be interviewed on de blog, I’ll consider it—as long as they are  interesting.  (So many famous people that are truly boring!!!)

I’m not very much into arguing.  I realized long ago, I don’t always see things the way others do, and I’m used to others not seeing it my way.  However, if there are issues with interesting arguments on both sides, I may present debates of those issues.

(They may be political, but probably not.  There are plenty of sites out there devoted to politics.  If you were looking for them, you probably wouldn’t be here.)

I hope to always keep it interesting.

On that note, I’m not an expert on anything.  I’m always interested in and anxious to learn from the opinions of others.  Your input will guarantee the discussions never get dull.   Help me keep de blog interesting by sharing your ideas & reactions, whenever you feel inclined to do so.  With each passing week, and your help, de blog will have more and more of interest to offer.

Ever heard that old saying “Behind every good man, there’s a good woman”?

Over the years, variations of  this have appeared on everything from t-shirts to coffee mugs.

I’d like to propose the following variation.

Behind every badly behaving woman, there might be a good man.

I am always surprised when normally sweet & nurturing females turn into shrews–or worse.

It reminds me of a belief I hold.  Good relationships cause us to want to be better.  Bad relationships bring out our very worst, and least human qualities.

Some relationships start bad and get worse.  Most relationships start good, before going bad.    Many things can turn a good relationship bad.  One of the most common is when one, or both partners take each other for granted and/or fail to meet the others’ needs.

It’s the old male affair cliché.   Those who feel they aren’t  getting what they need at home, may be tempted to stray.

When I was growing up affairs were something that mostly men had.   I don’t know what changed, but it’s no longer just men who are having affairs.

Women who don’t get their emotional needs fed by the man they are with, will slowly become starved for the company or love they feel they deserve.

It’s a feeding disorder.  I call it  Manorexia.

If you’ve ever seen a cat which has been starved, you know what I’m talking about.   Once upon a time that sweet little kitten was cuddly and approachable.  Now that same cat has become defensive and menacing.  Seeing such, one knows instinctively to keep a safe distance.  Imagine a creature like that with a larger and highly developed brain—like that of the average adult female.  We’re talking real danger.

The need to be cared for is fundamental to all beings, but it affects women in a profound way.

Women who feel loved are lovable.  Women who feel desired are desirable.  Women who feel contempt are contemptible.

It’s not always a boyfriend or husband that fails to “feed” or care for woman.  Sometimes it’s a father or some other guy who has caused a kind emotional malnutrition in a young girl; the effects of which, can linger into adulthood.

In preparing for de blog, I talked to quite a few women who had become involved in affairs.

These weren’t bad women.  They were good women, who had been a little bad for a season.  As I canvassed those who were willing to talk about their affairs, I wanted to know what caused them to stray.    They all seemed to be saying the same thing.   It all came back to Manorexia–the feeding disorder.

Except with those for whom the affairs were retaliatory acts, I heard the same things over and over.  Women said they felt ignored or neglected.  Instead of feeling appreciated or desirable, they felt overlooked and undervalued.   The most often recurring word was “invisible.”  If you’ve ever felt invisible, you know what I’m talking about.

The trouble is invisibility doesn’t extend past the front door.  Women are not invisible to “other” men.  A woman who has been starving for attention is highly visible and vulnerable—especially to the men who would give them what they’ve been hungry for.

Sometimes when men forget to feed and tend their little pets, they often don’t even remember they’ve forgotten.

Over time, this neglect, can cause a very precarious situation for both parties.  Wish I knew how to remind the guys,  their little kitten might be crying out for a few strokes or some little treats, because I’ve seen what can happen when they forget.

Manorexia is not pretty.

A favorite quote:
By the time a woman is wise enough to find a good husband, she has been married 10 or 15 years.

Nothing like being married, to teach one what constitutes a good one.

I selected my husband the same way I select most things.  Shopped around, looked for the kind of quality that would last.  I looked at quite a few, before I chose the one I liked best.

I know more now, than I did then, but I did okay for myself.

If I were to be shopping for a husband today, I’d never marry a man who didn’t dance.

Never thought about it when I was single, but I’ve thought about it a lot in the time since.

Some people enjoy dancing more than others.  I have often wondered, if men enjoy dancing as much as women seem to.

I don’t know the answer to that one, but I know that unless I was in love with a man who didn’t have use of his legs, I could never be with a man who didn’t dance.

I love dancing.  It’s an essential expression of the best parts of being alive.  It’s uninhibited, it’s active and it’s sensual.

For people with energy, the need to move is rudimentary.  For people who enjoy music, the desire to move to it is instinctual.  For people in love, the desire to have bodies in concert is unmitigated.

Dancing is all of that for me.

Dancing is nothing more than moving.  Moving that feels good.  Moving that has the power to move us.

What I like best about dancing, is that it is a publicly-sanctioned display of sexuality.  It is a time when we can go head-to-head or cheek-to-cheek with the object of our desire, without fearing raised eyebrows.   We are given permission to admire the motion of their body.  We are allowed to move in synchronicity with them.

In those moments, we can imagine we are Fred & Ginger, or anyone else our minds can conjure.   Time is suspended, allowing us to enjoy inhibition and intimate closeness.  We are able to forget what we look like, and become what we imagine.  We can revel in the simple placement of a head on a shoulder.  We can listen to the heartbeat or breathing of our partner, and allow it to affect our own.

This is why I am baffled at how men would choose to stand around with their warm hands wrapped around a cold beer, when there are women who want to dance.

The same guys who may fantasize about the flexibility of gymnasts, seem not to see the sensuality of women dancing.

It’s rather like having one’s house painted and failing to notice.  It’s out there and obvious, but only the blind don’t see it.    Choosing the comforting feel of ice cold aluminum in his hands, a man can miss the smell of a woman’s hair, the feel of her face, or an opportunity.

A silly old line calls dancing the vertical expression of a horizontal intention.

That’s not that silly.

I want to dance.
Everyday of my life, I want to dance.

Some days I want to dance crazy.  Some days I want to dance refined.  Sometimes I want to dance in the way that makes my partner know that old line isn’t silly.

I don’t want to be with a man who doesn’t get that, because I don’t want to dance alone.

Pssst.
Hey . .  you over there.
I’m glad you’re here.
C’mon out .

You are reading the first words I put here, which is much more exciting for me, than for you.

Ordinarily a first entry might introduce the author, but what a bore that would be.  My goal is to avoid being a bore.
That’s why  I’ll be talking about  anything and everything of interest.

(Yes, I said everrrrrrything. )

It’s girl talk, for real women–not those young fawns who are just getting their Bambi legs under them, but us, fully-felted does.

I’m talking to the ones who’ve been around long enough to have an idea of  what’s lurking out in life’s big forest.

Whether it’s hunting season, rutting season, breeding season, or you’re just looking for a relaxing graze;   I’m hoping you’ll pass thru often–and become a regular with my herd.

Bucks are welcome too–if they can follow our trail.