Are You Kidding Me?

Let's be honest ~ as a culture, Americans hate the French. You may not; I may not. As a culture, Americans do. We've never, to my eyes, had a warm and fuzzy relationship with them but after they backed down from going into Iraq almost a decade ago, the attitude went from "not warm and fuzzy" to "as a culture, we hate the French." Remember "freedom fries" or "cheese eating surrender monkeys?" And don't try to tell me that was oh so long ago and we've moved on. It's not that we've moved on; it's that the hatred of the French has moved into the cultural consciousness to the point that we don't have to talk about it any longer. I know of at least one diner that still has "American Fries" on its menu. See?

And the diner was opened in the last 18 months, so you can't even tell me it's expensive to reprint menus once the supidity has worn off. It's a new menu, not a tattoo.


So...okay. Why am I talking about this? Because it seems the one thing Americans hate more than the French are black women. The accuser in the DSK rape case has been denied ... everything.

I've been keeping quiet about this because, even as her "character issues" came out, even as the media started talking about questions being raised, even as they released him from house arrest, the case was still moving forward. As of today, she has been denied everything.

Did she lie on her immigration forms? Sure. People smarter and more connected than I have said this is a fact. I will accept it as such. Did she react inappropriately immediately after the attack? This is up for debate, still, because what, exactly is "appropriate" in such situation. However, for the sake of arguement...fine. She didn't help her case in the moments immediately after the attack (*eye roll*).

So fucking what.

She is unreliable. She is a liar. She is a bad witness. She is imperfect.

So fucking what.

Her description of the attack has never wavered. DNA and physical evidence at the hotel point to the fact that something happened. The United States court system has said they don't care. None of this matters. She doesn't matter.

He is wealthy, internationally important, and white. She is...not. She should still matter. She does still matter. Taking him to trial would've been a travesty of justice? Perhaps it would've been. It wouldn't have been nearly the travesty of justice that not taking him to trial is.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Ps/ETA ~ Yes, I do believe this would be different if she was white. She would still be being raked over the coals. She would still be being called names. The court system would still be victim blaming. That comes with gender and misogyny. I also believe the case would've gone to court. The fact that it isn't, I lay directly at the feet of racism. Just to be clear.

A Day Worth Noting

I killed two ~ TWO ~ spiders, all by myself. One before four in the morning. Yeah, I'm a stud.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

National Aviation Day

Honored over here.

And a special shout out to GSH, too. ;)

Those are Pobble Thoughts ~ and Pobble Travels. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee, tea, or me...or something like that.

Dribs and Drabs

If you can't take being asked hard questions and not being allowed to set your own agenda when you are on a freaking talk show about being asked hard questions, you really shouldn't go into politics. Stop dishing it out if you can't take it.

*****

What is the allure of Kathy Lee Gifford? What am I missing? I find her to be ~ and have since her days with Regis ~ condescending, judgmental, and rude. Yet people love her. What don't I get?

*****

Have spent the last week working with the designer for my next book cover. Oh so very excited! Nothing more to say about it yet but you know I'll keep you posted.

*****

Our property manager in NOLA adores Lithus. I'm just as friendly as I know how to be; I get one line responses. He emails her and gets a tome, complete with emoticons. Oh so amused.

*****

When Lithus took this job, it was a contract gig with work through March and then we'd see. Based on the last two weeks of work, the project manager has signed contracts for another year worth of work. Ah, the smell of money...

*****

I could start a new blog just doing hotel reviews. I'm not because I'm already juggling two blogs and you know, my job writing. But I could. My first one would be that if you take a Travel Lodge, rename it, paint it black and red, add interesting outdoor lighting, and flatscreen televisions...it's still a Travel Lodge. A particularly unusual Travel Lodge, admittedly, but still a Travel Lodge nonetheless.

*****

Along those lines, think twice about staying at a hotel where along with toothbrushes and toothpaste and a comb, they offer complimentary ear plugs.

*****

Boxing, hula hoop and jumping rope combine for a kick ass workout.

*****

"Brain Eating Amoeba" are three of the scariest words ever.

*****

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Occupational Hazard

Part of living on the road is getting to stay in hotels. Some hotels are noteworthy for their denizens and flophouse-y-ness. Some are noteworthy for their utter and complete mediocrity and un-noteworthiness. Some, though...Some are like the Hotel Davenport.

Lithus and I spent last Friday night there. We needed to get out of the bush, needed some elegance and sophistication; needed to remember that a world that includes chamber music, room service, and valet is indeed still our world.

It was everything we needed, wanted, and hoped it would be. The room was spacious. There was actual and for real art on the walls. The bed was hand-carved. The bathroom was marble. Even the toilet paper was lux.

Check out the bed:

What you can't tell from this picture is the fact that, at 5'2", I had to step on the bed rail in order to get onto this thing with any kind of grace. It's massively tall. (See the art on the wall? Actual paint.)

Another part of life on the road is just how often you forget where you are. You'd be surprised how many times Lithus and I look at each other and ask "Where are we again?" The only question we ask more often is "What day is it today?" ~ but that's for another post.

Forgetting where you are isn't all that bad, so long as one of us can remember in short order. And luckily, I have never peed anywhere inappropriate, as I have heard tell of other people who live on the road. However, sometimes, you happen to be in, I don't know, let's say Spokane. And you happen to be getting a little *ahem* amorous. This is not the best time to forget where you are. Because when you jump up out of bed for a quick second, you will forget that you haven't just gotten into bed but have had to ascend into bed and you will fall out. You will also catch yourself with your calf. There will be laughter and unsexy snorting. And the next morning, you will get into the (marble, extra-large) shower and notice this:

A week out, it will still look like this:

But you know what? Forgetting where we are is part of the life I love and the Hotel Davenport is oh so worth it (did you see the bed???????).

Should you ever be in Spokane, Washington, even for just a night, stay at the Davenport. Request a Davenport Deluxe King. Just remember where you are. ;)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

The Gopher

The most recent big event here in Coolin, Idaho has been concern over if the horrible children who were staying at the hotel for the past few days had killed the resident gopher with a stick.

Lithus and I watched the kids ride by on their bikes last night and I pointed them out to him.

Me: Those are the kids who might've killed the gopher.
Lithus: With the stick?
Me: Yes.
Lithus: We hate them.
Me: Yes.
Lithus: Of course, if one of them fell off their bike and got hurt or something, we wouldn't just stand here, looking at them.
Me: Of course not. We'd point and laugh.

As of this afternoon, the gopher has been spotted. All is well here in Coolin, Idaho.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Theory v. Practice

Since leaving Vancouver and living on the road over two years ago now, I spend an outrageous amount of time alone or only with Lithus. Note, this is not in any way, shape, or form a complaint. We often remark upon how insane it is that we spend so much time just the two of us and continue to be quite content with that. However! There is not a lot of outside, mental stimulation.

Several days ago, I read an article about how to keep one's mind sharp and one's brain working at max capacity. It suggested different things, including crossword puzzles, suduko, and learning another language. Crosswords and suduko: Check. Learning another language: not check, exactly, but definitely something Lithus and I are working on.

Another suggestion was to perform simple activities with one's non-dominant hand. Eating, brushing teeth, signing your name. That's a good one. I can do that.

Or not...

In theory, it's an excellent idea. In practice, I can no longer get dressed before either eating or brushing my teeth without having to change shirts after both activities. *sigh* Maybe I'll start filling in my crossword puzzles with my left hand. At least it will save on the laundry bill.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

What's Wild

You know what's wild?

• That I carry a knife. And not just any knife. A big ol' freaking K-Bar.
• That I met one of my best friends working at a porn store and that just seeing pictures of him can make me tear up ~ eventhough it's been almost two years since I've seen him in person.
• That I have been in Anchorage, AK; Portland, OR; Salem, OR; Carson City, NV; Sacramento, CA; Tuscon, AZ; Alamagordo, NM; New Orleans, LA; Denver, CO; Coolin, ID; and Spokane, WA just in the last two months.
• That I have never even been in the same room with two of my closest friends.
• That I have outfitted an entire apartment via the internet, without once stepping into a store or talking to a real person.
• That we have ordered a sofa funky enough that the employees at a place called Funky Sofa are excited about it and want to put pictures of it on their website and blog.
• That, while not impossible, you still have to look really, really hard to find me online.
• That one of my most valued friendships happens to be with my mother's first boyfriend.
• That I still don't have Nemeria's mailing address memorized.

These are the things that have been rattling around the last couple of days and I thought I'd share.


Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Courtesy of Dr. B

Slowly giving up the idea that I am anything but a screaming liberal, regardless of what my screaming liberal friends think...



Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Breathing Again

Still not ready to make any grand pronouncements or promises. However, things are much, much better for the moment. We even get to stay in our wonderful, beautiful NOLA apartment. Which is worth a whole hell of a lot.

So back to our regularly scheduled blogging. :)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

This Cannot Possibly Be Happening...Again...

Taking some time off. Probably leaving New Orleans. Lithus and I are alive, healthy, and together. More...eventually. You know me; I always come back. Until then, though...

Take care of you.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will keep on getting you coffee.

Cooler Than You

That should be New Orleans' official motto: Cooler Than You. Because even when it's hot, even when it's humid, even when it's monsoon season and it is pouring rain, New Orleans is cooler than you/me/we can ever hope to be.

That balcony up there? Yeah...that's our home. We live there. Go ahead; let the hating begin. :)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Fear and Bravery

It is no secret to anyone who knows me, or who has read this blog for a minute, that I am incredibly, incredibly brave and that I am brave because I am afraid of everything. It's only people who have just met me or who refuse to get to know me that believe the bravery is the core person and not an active, every single day choice. Honestly, I don't have much interest in keeping that second category around very long, because I happen to think being brave is far more interesting than being fearless, but that's just me.

Being the quivering mass of contradictions that I am, I have two differing experiences around this, just from this week. Surely this doesn't surprise you.

On the one hand, earlier this week, I mentioned to Lithus the fact that I am not as brave as I once was simply because I am not as scared as I once was. Leaving the house ~ not scary any more. Going exploring on my own ~ not scary any more. Making the phone calls and arrangements that need to be made ~ not scary any more. I regularly leave the hotel room without a book or crossword puzzle or anything else to distract me and go do whatever needs to be done, be it lunch or shopping. There have even been a couple of times this week that I started to get nervous about something and actually thought Wait, this doesn't bother you anymore; you don't have to be nervous, remember? and that was that. It's a beautiful, wonderful, exciting feeling.

On the other hand...Oh Dear God, the other hand. Last night, I had a thought that could become something interesting. So I emailed my friend Lori, who tends to know stuff about things, and asked if she knew anything about this idea. This morning, she wrote back saying that she knew nothing about it but here were three people she knew who very well might know something about it and I should write them and ask. Oh holy shit. Wait, what? Oh dear God.

But you know what? I'm incredibly brave. So, with a pep talk from Lori and a hard swallow, I did it. I sent those three emails. And as scary as it was, it wasn't as scary as it would've been once. Maybe, just maybe, even when I still need to be brave, I don't need to be quite as brave. I guess we'll see.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

These Thoughts on Those Thoughts

I've had an interesting thing happen just today ~ I looked at the blogs of two people I know personally but didn't know they blogged. Only they aren't just chatty, here's what's up in my life, pithy observation and witty insight blogs. These two blogs present themselves as...if not experts, definitely respectable sources of solid information.

So, I'm reading these two blogs and I'm thinking this is good information when it hits me: neither of these women actually and for real live like this. They want to live like this. They strive to live like this. But I know both of them IRL and truth is they don't live like this. They simply know the words and what we're all supposed to say and they happen to put the words together in a really compelling, convincing way. But bottom line is they are giving advice ~ and presenting it as a relatively easy thing to do ~ when I know for a fact that, at best, they struggle with it; at worst, by their own admission, away from public eyes, they fail.

I remember once I listened to Friend A (not-so) mockingly scold Friend B for Friend B's parenting choices. Only Friend A made the exact same choices with her own kids for the exact same reasons. Because we know what we're supposed to say and what we're supposed to do. And it's oh so damn easy to tell other people how easy it is to do. Yet somehow, our excuses are actually real reasons when everyone else's are, well, excuses.

There's a story about Ghandi and, while I don't know for certain it's true, I like to think it is. One day a woman came to him and explained she had been trying to get her son to stop eating sugar and he wouldn't listen to her. Please, please would Ghandi tell her son to stop eating sugar. Surely, her son would listen to Ghandi. Although she had brought her son with her, Ghandi told her to bring her son back in a month. So she did. A month later, she returned and brought her son up to Ghandi who looked at the boy and told him not to eat sugar, then sent him on his way. (I like to envision a pat on the head and a smile at this point, but that's just me.) A little confused and irritated that she'd had to make the trek twice, the mother asked Ghandi why he hadn't been willing to say those few words to her son a month ago. To which Ghandi replied "A month ago, I hadn't stopped eating sugar."

The truth is no one has The Truth. No one lives it perfectly every single day. Most of us are winging it, just trying to do the best we can in any given moment. And you know what? I'm okay with that.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Happy 4th

If you celebrate it, Happy 4th of July!



If you don't, Happy Steve McQueen, James Garner, and David McCallum Eye Candy Day!

And remember ~ don't set shit on fire.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Ed. Note ~ I have no idea what the comments at the beginning and end are; please disregard. Thank you.

A Reminder

I've said it once already this season but with the 4th of July upon us ~ and the fireworks and sparklers that tend to show up with the occasion ~ I think it bears repeating:

Don't set shit on fire.

Your friendly neighborhood firefighters thank you. As do I.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and keep you from being evacuated later.

Since I Missed It...

...You did, too, right? ;)





And especially for Kimber...


Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Not Here, Not Now

That is where and when I am. Or I'm not. Or something. You can't tell the players without a program folks. And while I'm not going to put everything that has happened in the last month out here, if you want the details, let me know; I'll fill you in as concisely as possible. Just know it's still a long story. But those are the best kind, don't you think? Yeah, me too.

Since last Monday, it's gone like this:
Monday, Sacramento, CA (lovely town)
Be told we'll have plenty of time to settle in.
Tuesday morning, be told Lithus is heading to AZ for 24-36 hours
Tuesday evening, be told Lithus is going to Sierra Vista, NM for 12 days instead. Make arrangements to fly to Tucson (via Las Vegas) and drive to Sierra Vista on Wednesday.
Tuesday night, be told Lithus isn't going to Sierra Vista, but is going to Safford, NM. We can still fly to Tucson and drive.
Wednesday, go to airport, check bags, head to security. Receive email telling Lithus he might be going to Alamogordo, NM and to stand-by.
Stand by...stand by...stand by...
Receive word we are to still fly to Tucson, meet up with chief pilot, and...something will happen from there.
Fly to Las Vegas. Receive word that Lithus is indeed going to drive to Alamogordo, just not sure when. Or where chief pilot is.
Fly to Tucson. Receive word Lithus is to spend night in Tucson, drive to Alamogordo Thursday. All without chief pilot. Who drops out of this story at this point.
Spend night in Tucson. Eat the most perfect scallop dinner ever prepared. Ever.
Thursday, drive to Alamogordo, New Mexico.

*whew* Now we're up to date.

Those are happy, back on the road again, Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee (but admission to see The Thing is only a dollar!).

Pride 2011!

It's Pride month and we here at Pobble Thoughts celebrate it. So, for the whole month of June, this will be the top post. Scroll down for more. And Happy Pride!

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

It's Happening Again

Aaaaand...They're off! Sacramento, here we come. Details soon. For now though ~



Those are Pobble Thoughts (with a little help from some friends). That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Filler

There is so much to write. So freaking much. There is no time to write it. Instead, I bring you a visual interlude until we can return to our regularly scheduled programming. Enjoy.


My "type" has been well documented here at Pobble Thoughts. There's the perennial favorites, along with other ruggedly handsome gentlemen. There's my still-missed Tim Russert (*sniff*). And even more recently a (slightly NSFW) big ol' thank you to a friend.


Still, as gorgeous as these people are ~ and oh, are they gorgeous ~ I think it may be time to start a new batch. Not that Brian, Morgan, and Chow are going away. Never. Just...expanding the list a bit. :)


First, sliding into the 4th place position ~ and probably making his first appearance in the "Perennials" section ~ Tim DeKay. Ooooo...I just love me some Tim DeKay.

Moving into the empty love-his-intelligence-newscaster slot (*sniff*), Anderson Cooper:

Moving into the empty obscure-I've-never-thought-of-him-that-way-newscaster position (*sniff*), Brian Williams (see, it takes two people to come close to filling the hole Tim Russert left):

And from then on out, in no particular order...

Chiwetel Ejiofor:

Daniel Ratcliff (hey, he's legal now):

Jean Reno:

John Cho:

Karl Urban (yeah, the new Star Trek was a gooood movie):

Lawrence Fishburne:

And did I mention Tim DeKay?

Those are lovely, lovely Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee and candy.







Road Trippin'

Pictures from Fairbanks have been taken, just not loaded up yet. But first, we gotta go to Manley Hot Springs, which isn't nearly as interesting as it sounds because the hot springs resort is actually closed. It is, however, on fire. So we're going.

According to google, it's 156 miles and takes five hours. Only approximately 1/8 of the way is paved. The rest is gravel. And we're driving it in a rented, gold Chevy Impala. Yep, moving through the bush in a pimp mobile.

This is the part I love.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Another Take On It, Though...

You know I love Pride. I celebrate it. I try very hard to live it. The LGBTQ community is my community. Happily and, well, with pride. But...for every one of us who celebrates Pride, there is at least one who doesn’t. Who takes no pride in being part of our community. Gay men, lesbians, queers, transgendered people, bisexual men and women – people who should be able to take pride, who should feel a part of the LGBTQ community. After all, that’s what the word community means. Yet they feel no pride, so why celebrate Pride?

           

It would be easy to say they need to get over themselves; to lay it at their feet. It would be easy and, goodness knows, it would be more convenient. If it is their fault, their problem, then we don’t have to look at how we might have contributed to these feelings. After all, no one is responsible for our feelings but ourselves; no one can make you feel inadequate without your permission. Blah, blah, blah. We know all the catch phrases. Honestly, I’m even a fan of these phrases. I believe them to be true.

           

I also believe the overuse of these catch phrases is a cop-out. We use them to be able to insult people, to be cruel, to be dismissive, all while being able to blame the very person we have just tried to hurt if they actually get hurt by the fact that we have just tried to hurt them. How is that even logical?

           

But, what does this have to do with Pride or even with us? Because there is a hierarchy within our community. We like to pretend there isn’t. We like to pretend that, as an oppressed group, we come together in unity. We like to pretend we are a united front against those with straight privilege. Sadly, if you talk to more than a handful of bisexual people, you will discover this isn’t the case. If you talk to gays and lesbians of color, you will discover racism is as rampant among us as it is within the straight community. If you get to know transgendered people – do you even know a transgendered person? – you will hear stories of his or her “community” being as judgmental as the cis-world.

           

You don’t want this to be true. I don’t want this to be true. But as adults, we know that wanting something to be different doesn’t automatically make it so. We have to work to change it. I think Pride would be a good time to start or continue that work. Recognize where you have privilege, because most of us carry it somewhere. Watch your humor and your jokes. If someone doesn’t think you’re funny, let that be about you, not about them. Admit that yes, even as the focus of bigotry, we can still be bigoted. Don’t use politically correct words just because you know them; really think about why they are important and change the way you think, not just the way you speak.

           

If we can start here, with Pride, with ourselves, maybe we can open the community to pride. It’s worth a shot.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Tulpa, Or Anne&Me...AGAIN!

An amazing show, created by amazing women. If you're anywhere near New York City, see this show. Let me live vicariously through you.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Summer PSA

Memorial Day weekend has brought the emotional beginning of summer and the seasonal PSA here at Pobble Thoughts. Summer is great ~ beaches, frosty drinks, picnics, barbeques...yeah, that last one. Folks, have your bbqs. Toast your marshmellows and eat your s'mores. Just please, don't set shit on fire.
This isn't hard. Not lighting shit on fire is remarkably easy, in fact. So easy anyone can do it. Put it on the top of your summer list: Don't Set Shit On Fire. Ta-Dah.

Second on the list? Should you set some shit on fire ~ or someone else should set shit on fire ~ and the people who are in charge of things like this tell you to evacuate, get the fuck out.

The Summer To Do List
1. Don't set shit on fire.
2. Get the fuck out.
3. Enjoy the beach.

Not hard. Very easy. Feel free to pass this along. The firefighters, the smokejumpers, the helicopter pilots, and yes, the people who love them, thank you.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Responsibility

Finishing off the margarita mix in the refrigerator before leaving town for three months is a highly responsible thing to do. Otherwise, I would've had to have thrown it out. Highly irresponsible. And wasteful.


I'm a giver.


Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Diplomacy

My favorite definition of diplomacy is the ability to tell someone to go to hell and have them look forward to the trip. George Takei is my favorite diplomat.



Dear God but I love this man. (And please note how drop dead gorgeous Nichelle Nichols is at his wedding. Just saying...)


Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Because It's Not Really 2011

Have you seen the article in Psychology Today spewing the "scientific" and "objective" news that Black women are the least attractive people on the planet? Nope, not kidding. (Click on it; it gets bigger and readable)
Now, the first time I heard about this, I thought it was a joke. An unfunny joke but a joke nonetheless. Not because I don't think racism like this exists but because it was printed in Psychology Today, a reasonably respected magazine. Then I thought the people who had first told me about it simply misunderstood. Perhaps it was a study on the cultural attitudes that make white, mainstream America see Black women as less attractive. Still no.

This article "uses science" to actually "prove" Black women are the least attractive women around.

So...where's the outrage? Where's the disgust? Especially among the white women and feminists who would be screaming if such a thing were said about white women. When I first heard about it, it was easy to think it was a joke because it was being treated as one by the white women ~ white feminists ~ in the conversation. Another time I wish I was joking, but I'm not. But these are the same ilk of women who created the PUMA attitude when Barack Obama won the nomination for President.

You know that "sisterhood" women like to claim they have with each other? Where the hell is it when this kind of racist misogyny gets legitimized in such a public forum?

Because, yeah, these are some ugly people...

 

Those are angry, motivated, inspired Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

An Ode

Damn you, eight a.m. appointment, the bane of my existence.
In bed too early, I toss and turn.
Fumbling at the clock at only one.
Again at three, afraid the alarm is unset.
At five, the voice in my ear is worth the wakefulness
But not the loud silence at six.
Or six-ten.
Or -twenty.
Or -thirty, when I give up, tired and yawning and oh so grumpy for coffee.
But now?
Oh, my teeth are so clean.

Those are a Pobble Ode. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

When You Just Don't Get It

Holy shit, are you serious??? According to the Indiana Supreme Court, people should not resist if the police enter their home illegally.

A man I have met recently has announced that everyone up here in Alaska should be wearing helmets when they ride their motorcycles - and has also announced that he has Libertarian views. So...you want to tell other people what to do but don't want to be told what to do.

The majority of self-described Tea Partiers do not want Medicare and Medicaid cuts. But they are enamored with Paul Ryan, whose plan includes them.

People are arguing that cuts to the budget are vital or else we will leave our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren with huge debt to repay. But we are cutting education budgets - leaving them with a far greater debt than just a financial one.

Done. Done and done.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Mini Post

The men in the Viagra commercials are lovely to look at. Definitely a successful ad campaign.

Signal Boost, Bigger and Better

Last November, I boosted the signal on a staged reading of a new show, Tulpa, or Anne&Me. Now, I get to boost the signal on actual performances. Yep, they went big-time and the show is being performed at

Planet Connections Theatre Festivity
Robert Moss Theatre (440 Studios) at 440 Lafayette Street, 4th Floor, Manhattan.
June 2 at 6pm, June 3 at 4pm, June 16 at 8pm, and June 19 at 8:15pm.

For $18 per ticket. Eighteen bucks!

Check it out at IndieGoGo.

If you're in New York, you should go. If you're not in New York, feel free to talk this up and tell people who might be in New York that they should go. And I will sit over here and be envious.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ but $18 will get you theatre tickets!

Nicotine

When I was 23, I quit smoking after seven years. When I was 30, I realized my marriage was in trouble, looked at a friend and said "All I want is a drink and a cigarette." Over the last 11 years, I've tried off and on to quit, but it never really stuck. Then two Augusts ago, I went back on the patch again ~ and was told by my dear, wonderful Dr. B. to not worry about the timing of it all, to stay on the patch as long as I needed to. So I did.
Until this week.

As of last Friday, I am nicotine free for the first time in eleven years. Lithus is, as well, which makes it even better.

It's very very cool.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Hollowstone

Check it out.

Yeah... :)

Random Act of Romance

Lithus is in Kodiak this week, flying construction lifts. They ~ whoever "they" are ~ are building research and observation cabins for people who want to study or just watch the bears. They have set up a camera onsite that can be accessed via internet for ... people involved with the construction? ... the project bosses? ... someone. Since I couldn't go with him, Lithus got permission to give me the access code for the camera.
Tonight, I logged on about seven o'clock, just in case his day was winding down. Sure enough, there they all were, tying down the helicopter, closing down their day. So I watched, knowing my sweetie, even when he was blurry and pixilated. And as I watched, he finished his work, walked up the stairs to the deck, looked up toward the camera ~ and blew me a kiss.

417 miles away. Not knowing if I was watching or not. He blew me a kiss.

Is it any wonder I write romance novels?

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Reminder

The President of the United States of America was forced today to prove himself. After years of submitting the actual, legal document that the state of Hawaii provides, he had to provide yet another. Many white people consider it silly, or an annoyance, or may even be able to point to "them" and call out "their" racism. It is so much more than silly or an annoyance. It is not just about "them" there, on that other side. It's about all of us, if we want to admit it or not.


Those are far more eloquent and appropriate thoughts than Pobble Thoughts. And after all this time,this and a buck fifty will still just get you a cup of coffee.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Just not in that order...
The Bad: After six months of being on the hook, my editor has turned down my book. Yep, the third in my trilogy will not be published by my previous publishing house. *sigh* So many reasons this is heartbreaking. Reason the first ~ duh. Reason the second ~ it was obvious by the reasons she gave that she only gave it a cursory read. That doesn't mean that all of her critiques were invalid; some were very valid. Most of them though, frankly, didn't apply to the book I had written. Reason the third ~ several of her complaints were the exact things my previous editor had loved. Ah well. And reason the fourth ~ you kept me on the hook for six months just to give my book a cursory glance and turn me down??? Are you fucking serious???? Yeah, pretty pissed.

The Good: I don't have a brain tumor. Seriously. It's been an interesting few weeks. The nutshell version: back at the beginning of the month, I was hit with a migraine like no migraine I have ever had in my life. Then less than a week later, there was another one. And there was an MRI on my brain and my neck. Wanna see? You know you do.

Pobble Brain, no tumors. How Freaking Cool????

So what's going on? It's The Ugly...

That's my neck. And that's a bulging disc. Officially, this is a small disc protrusion with degenerative changes and minimal canal stenosis. Which means it's a bulging disc with some spaces closing up. Yes, it's bumping up against my brain stem (hello, migraines) but it's not as bad as it could be because there is still a lot white around the brain stem. The white is the fluid that helps protect the brain stem. So, as ugly as it is, it could be a lot uglier. Still...dude...

However, in many ways, this has been good timing. I didn't get the book contract the day before my appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. As I wrote a dear friend of mine that night:

I'm still hurting. I'm still PISSED. I still don't want to deal with it with just about anyone but you.
AND having the doctor's appointment rescheduled for tomorrow is a case of the Universe giving you what you need. Because you know what?
I didn't get a contract for a book. I still don't have a brain tumor.
I didn't get a contract for a book. I do have a bulging disc from my c-spine pressing on my brain stem.
I didn't get a contract for a book. I have insurance and a referral to a really good doctor since I have a bulging disc from my c-spine pressing on my brain stem.
It's all a good reminder that no, I didn't get a contract for a book. But all that happened was I didn't get a contract for a book.

Told you - The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

The Value of Things

Over the weekend, Lithus made a throw-away line about how we should pare down our belongings because we are beginning to accumulate stuff. It was a throw-away and I know this for several reasons. First, he said it while clearing out the empty boxes that had gotten stacked along the closet. Second, we hardly have any stuff. We can't even invite three people over for dinner because we don't have enough table service for more than four ~ and only enough seating for three and only then if two of them are good friends. Mostly, I'm okay with this.

People who know me talk approvingly about my lack of materialism. Comment on how nice it is that I am willing to live simply in order to spend money on adventures and experiences. Note that anything I do have in my home and I am willing to accumulate is stuff I really, really love. And that last one is true. A long time ago, I decided I would only own things that I really, really loved, that increased happiness. The rest...the rest is only partly true.

I used to care about things. A great deal. Within a year, that was change was kind of forced on me. During my divorce, I wasn't allowed into the basement of the house I had shared with my ex-husband to go through the boxes he and I had stored there in happier times, knowing eventually we'd get around to unpacking them. During that same time, when I was trying desperately to take each and every breath without losing my mind, my childhood home was emptied and sold. While I would've been allowed to come down and go through it ~ welcomed, even ~ it wasn't...made easy...for me to do so. In some ways, I forced others to make decisions for me; in some ways, others forced decisions on me. I really can see both sides of it. The end result is the same.

My books. My college diploma. Pictures. Daddy's pencil sharpener. The whipped cream bowl. The demitasse cups. Two different dining room sets. The Victorian cookbook. My fountain pens. ... You get the idea. I have no idea what happened to so many things. I had to let them go.

Now...now I own the things I want. They are in storage in Worcester and Washington. I haven't seen them in years, literally. But they are mine. No one can take them away from me. And if I don't surround myself with stuff, it's not because I don't value things; it's because I do. I value the things I have left, the things I own, and they aren't simply replaceable because our apartment is a little emptier than it might be.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

For Denny (a little NSFW)

Sometimes, you gotta say thanks, the only way you can.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and my love.

An Opinion on Not Having An Opinion

When I was growing up, I was part of a very liberal family living in a very conservative town. The conservative contigent was already well established and deeply entrenched by the time we got there. My family managed to find like-minded people and discovered a liberal culture that was growing.  Everyone had an opinion about something. Often loudly.
Then I moved to Boston for college. By the time I graduated, my mother was convinced conservative aliens had sucked my brains while I was in the northeast. Yep, for years and years, I was the conservative one in my family, which should tell you how liberal a bunch we were. Not surprisingly, however, conservative aliens did not suck my brains. Something did happen though. I went somewhere where it was okay to say "I don't know." In fact, it was encouraged. Now, while many might think this was because I went to college at all, I transferred to my school in Boston. I'd already done two and a half years in college. I wasn't some innocent, bright-eyed eighteen year old who'd never seen the world.

But in Boston, we were taught that if you only knew one side of an argument, you did not, in spite of what your gut or your emotions wanted to say, have enough information to form an opinion. It was novel. Mind you, I'd heard both sides debate issues before. You couldn't miss it growing up the way I did, remember? But I'd heard very little objective fact about the other side's side.

People were so busy yelling at each other; pulling out the weakest, most ludicrous sound bites of the other's stance in order to eviscerate it; standing by their own propaganda for the sake of standing by it...there wasn't a lot of room for listening. There were a few people ~ my dad, a couple professors at that first school, a friend's father, another friend's mother, AppsRUs ~ who listened and encouraged actual knowledge prior to making a decison but that's not the culture of my youth.

It's not the culture of my adulthood, either, it seems. People are going a little crazy with the propaganda these days...again...still...something. We hear it on msnbc or fox news, depending to which side of the aisle we lean and we believe it. We don't need to listen to the facts of the other side; we don't have to research what it actually means. We've heard our side's counter argument and that's enough.

Only, it's not. It's not enough to knee jerk against Planned Parenthood or Medicare cuts. Land minds and school lunches are both nuanced subjects, in spite of what is easy to believe. And we may come to the exact same opinion when it's all over. That is okay. At least we got there legitimately, not just because one side or the other was louder.

Until we get there, though, I really wish we could step back and acknowledge when we just don't know.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Ah...Spring?

I've been composing a post about Spring and the fact that it's here, finally. But, in vintage Pobble fashion, I've been composing it in the shower, while driving, just before sleep...everywhere but in front of my computer. Still, it has to be Spring because last weekend, we went out to Big Lake where friends are building a house and helped them get all the construction stuff off the lake before it thawed and everything sank to the bottom. And if there is concern about the lake thawing ~ the lake that people drive on because it is so solid ~ then it is Spring. Yay!


Lithus brought me tulips.

The apartment parking lot is no longer a sheet of ice. The snow hasn't just melted; it's disappeared completely and almost instantly.

Then I woke up to this today.

Can you see the snow? It had fallen for about twenty minutes at that point. Yeah. Twenty minutes.

Ah...Spring. At least my tulips are beautiful.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.