Secret Sin

Everybody's got a secret Sonny
Something that they just can't face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take
Till some day they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag 'em down
-Bruce Springsteen

Time to cut it loose. Reveal my secret.

Last year, when Kevin Charnas and his fiance, Wil, had the world's most bestest Halloween/blogger party, I dressed as an internet troll.

Thinking of the qualities that most embody "troll" I decided to go with ugly, stupid, and badly dressed. Voila:


The Billy Bob teeth and the GW Bush t-shirt were nice touches, but the part of this hideous outfit you can't see are the pants. They are these flowered fleecy size 17x sweat pants that are normally not seen outside of a Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon.

Everyone got quite the laugh at my outfit, and when I came home, I threw most of it out. But I kept one thing:


Yes, I wear them. No, not outside of the house! But I have to say, no matter how retina-damagingly ugly they are, they are pretty comfy to lounge around in. Maybe I will get brave and wear them to the swap meet next time I go.

Weekend Update

The labyrinth project is going well. I walked four different labyrinths in four days.

I am enjoying the meditation time. It takes about 20 minutes to walk a 11-course labyrinth slowly in and out, and by the time I am done, I feel light and mentally refreshed.

I can't sit and meditate. I am a bad, bad meditator. I have tried it and I fall asleep ALL the time. Or else I think about how I am not meditating right. I'm sure that is a sign of my spiritual ineptitude or something - which is what I am always thinking while I am trying to meditate.

The walking helps me to not be so mentally ill and self-judging about trying to meditate. While walking, I just let go and don't get so caught up in "Am I doing it RIGHT?"

*********

My boss got promoted out of our department (out of our whole company, actually since we work for a wholly owned subsidiary), which is a great move for her.

A co-worker whom I admire very much will be taking on some of the former boss's duties for now, but we have no idea how the management structure will end up being. I don't think they will replace the boss's position, which will mean both more self-management and more freedom for us.

At least two very excellent things are going to come of it: I will get to work at home two days a week instead of just one. With gas prices being what they are, anything that lessens my 55 mile daily round trip is thrilling.

But the best part is that as my co-worker inherits the boss's cubicle, I will be moving in to hers. And my people, for the first time in my working life, I will have something I have always wanted: my own window! Birds! Sky! Trees!

I can hardly believe my good fortune. Right now, my cube door (opening, whatever - there is no door) faces the fire exit and the first aid box, so about 50 times a day, someone comes to see if it contains tylenol (no, it does not).

The other thing about the new cubicle is that it is totally private - you can't see into it from the aisle. I don't know what I will do with my newfound luxury - work in my undies? Practice hula? Anything could happen back there and no one would know. Yippee.

*********

I decided to take a class this fall just for fun, but nothing in the continuing education catalog grabbed me. I had it on my desk for weeks and kept flipping through it and was considering a salsa class (the dance not the food LOL) but somehow I neglected to do anything about it.

Then the catalog for the local community college, one of my many alma maters (srsly, I have over 100 credits of COMMUNITY COLLEGE), got here and I decided to see if they had any conversational Spanish classes. It fell open to a class called "Spirituality and Health" and I suddenly KNEW I had to take that class. Dunno why, just had to.

The class discusses different forms of meditation and spiritual practice, issues of death and dying, and other interesting stuff.

So if you want to find me on Tuesday and Thursday evenings throughout the fall, I'll be in room G-23, even though I'm not exactly sure why I am there. I am really looking forward to it.

*******
Of course my 80s teen movie alter ego is:

Who's Your 80s Movie Icon Alter-Ego? Find out @ She's Crafty

Can't imagine anyone else. I got this quiz from Eden at So, Anyway.

Thanks for visiting the elderly, *ssface

I have a dozen blog posts I need to write but tonight I just can't because I am so furious.

My parents, as you know if you read this blog, are elderly. They don't get out much anymore, so they love to have visitors. Even the lawn guy has gotten used to getting coffee and cookies and having a nice long chat on the days he mows.

About a week ago, one of the "kids" from the old neighborhood called. He is about 55 now, LOL. He, David, was the second son of my parents' good friends Don and Blanche. He said he wanted to come visit on Wednesday.

They waited and worried all day yesterday, leaving him several phone messages (YOU know how old people are about schedules, right?). At about 6 pm, David called and said he had gotten a later start than he planned, yadayada, and would arrive between 10 and 11 today.

He came over. Mom talked his ear off for about 45 minutes. When there was a break in the conversation, the first thing he did was to ask to borrow money.

How much money? $6500.

I wasn't there but Mom said he had some story about how he has a work of art that needs to be photographed and reproduced so he can make money and the artwork is huge and out of state and he can't afford to travel because he is totally destitute, and oh by the way, his friend is waiting over in the Burger King parking lot and they have no gas and they are 100 miles from home and they have no food and they are starving.

Mom said David admitted to screwing up his life terribly and that he was very apologetic and said he had hurt a lot of people. She didn't give me the details but she said he told her.

She and dad gave him some money - not $6500 but I bet it had at least a few zeroes - and said they don't expect to ever be repaid. She also packed some sandwiches for him.

"We couldn't let him leave hungry," she said, with a pleading look in her eyes.

It just kills me that this scam artist waltzes in, after having burned all his bridges, knowing that there were at least two good, kind people he could use. I don't know what his deal is, but I have been around long enough to know how parasites suck off the elderly and the gentle.

It's not the money. It's the chutzpah. It's the idea that this jerk can pretend like he really wants to see my parents and then use them and their big hearts.

I have no idea if he is destitute or if there is an artwork or what the real story is. All I know what if David sees me coming, he had better run.

Don't call me...

Otto West: Don't call me stupid.
Wanda: Oh, right! To call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people! I've known sheep that could outwit you. I've worn dresses with higher IQs.

Like Kevin Klein's character in "A Fish Called Wanda," I hate to be called stupid.

You can call me ugly. You can say I dress funny. You can say I am mean, that I stink, that I am terrible with directions. All fine, and all somewhat true at times.

But do not make the mistake of saying, implying, or assuming that I am dumb.

I was in a meeting the other day when the presenter couldn't answer my questions. It was apparent that she did not know.

Instead, she turned it around and said in a condescending tone, "Well, let me see if I can try to explain it to you."

As she bumbled around, spinning circles with her words, I had to hold myself down to my chair. I was so close to standing up and yelling at her.

She got done with her explanation, which did not make a lick of sense. Everyone just sat there silent, amazed at her incompetence.

I finally said calmly but very clipped, "I'll talk to S. It seems like she might be able to clarify, based on what she said earlier."

But I was maaaad. I don't know why the implication that I am stupid galls me so deeply. It sends me into The Bad Place, the mental space you don't want to go - and if I go there, you certainly should not follow.

What that people assume about you sends YOU off the deep end?

Labyrinthine

I pretty much spent the entire weekend researching labyrinths for one of Alicia's crazy projects. We drove all over the county when it was hot as hell, looking for labyrinths and taking photos - and we had a lot of fun.

The trip involved about 18 stops for iced coffee (my fault) and/or bathroom use (me, again) and 56 last-minute turns into church parking lots, frightening other drivers.

A labyrinth, BTW, is (at least in its modern form) a meditation device. You walk along the meandering path toward the center.

It is interesting, because the way the patterns are laid out, you lose track of where you are going and can't predict where the next turn will take you, so your mind does kind of disconnect.

Alicia wants to get her work (a gov't agency where tensions are often very high) to construct one at her workplace, out in the miles of green lawn that surrounds her building.

She admitted that she is lucky to have friends like me and Ish, who went along with her and hauled out the Very Dangerous Broken Ladder over and over to get good photos of the 8 various labyrinths we found.

At first I thought "If you have seen one labyrinth, haven't you seen them all?" Nope. Each labyrinth has its own unique personality. So going to see all 8 was an odd, different kind of cultural experience, one I am glad to have had.



I am beat. Check the photos out here.

In addition to the labyrinths, we also found a gorgeous sculpture, which I loved despite its overtly Christian theme. Give me something blue and glowy and I am so good.