Winter Solstice

I hope everyone had a happy Winter Solstice. I know I did. I spent the evening with friends and I have learned that no matter what gets thrown your way, you can pretty much fix anything with a good laugh among friends.

Then I came home to an empty house (my favorite) and I built my shrine, lit some candles, and reflected for awhile.


I had my grandson last night and my youngest son Jacob came to visit. Eli and Uncle Jacob decorated the tree and there is no greater joy than to witness a tradition, that in turn creates a precious memory, being handed down. Uncle Jacob taught Eli how to trim a tree and Eli taught Uncle Jacob patience and that you CAN have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without the peanut butter.

Then John came home and the hell hounds descended upon me demanding red vines. Our dogs favorite bedtime snack.















I hope you all have a happy holiday and may the new year bring us all good health, many blessings and precious memories

Scientist Stole My Idea

I just read an article where scientist have created a robot controlled by the human thoughts which is EXACTLY what I've been doing for years with my glare.

I had a close friend whose dad always thought the government was spying on him so he covered his body with magnets! And now it's all the rage.

Okay, I'm going to do it. I'm going to go out into the world and go Christmas shopping which is really Winter Solstice shopping in disguise. The reason I'm blogging is I'm hoping it will somehow go away via my glare.

Okay, apparently it's not working yet.

Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. A dangerous time in our history as food and firewood were running low. No one knew what the winter storms would bring. So to appease the gods they lit a yule log for Thor and gave gifts. Winter Solstice usually falls on a Thursday. Coincidence? I think not. December 21's is also Frank Zappa's birthday. One more reason to celebrate. "How's your auro Dora? It's real angora"

The only trees to remain green were the evergreen (Tannenbaum)trees so they lit candles on the tree, gave gifts to the gods in hopes that the Sun would return. Another tradition is mistletoe. Frigga, Baldur's mother ordered each plant to promise not to harm her child. Loki-ever the prankster and god of the Hoki Poki-took advantage of the situation and tricked one of the gods into killing Baldur with mistletoe. Baldur (the god of light) was later resurrected. His Mother, Frigga, ordered the plant from that day forward to bring love into the world rather than death. Now we celebrate the resurrection of Balder by kissing under the mistletoe. Read your Poetic Edda people, I don't make this crap up!

So with the longer nights comes darkness and with darkness comes death ~go not gently into that good night~ as Dylan Thomas said, it is only natural to become depressed this time of year. But be of good cheer, Marc, for with the Winter Solstice comes longer days and spring and new life.

Okay, my plan didn't work. I'm going out there people! It's freaking Ragnarok out there.

Rantings

I'm driving to work this morning, late as usual, and I notice this construction truck. The reason I noticed the truck is it veered into my lane and almost fucking hit me. I couldn't glare at the driver because the windows were tinted. Yes, my glare can cause serious side effects. You do NOT want to receive my "glare". So I'm looking for something to remember this driver by in case I see the driver in a darkend alley. Get this, the name on the door is FCT Construction - Port Hueneme. Now I have even more reason to hate the drive because growing up in Oxnard (Bull Balls California) we HATED people from Port Hueneme. I can't remember why, but it was a Hatfield and McCoy thing.

In my head, of course, I'm pronouncing it Fucked Construction and wondering "who would do business with a company with fucked in its' title?" And why didn't I think of it first? And what is their catchy slogan? "Hire us and get FCT?" Or "if you don't hire us, you're fucked'" Compliments of Sura.

Our catchy phrase is "Gojkovich and Family Nepotism begins at home". Because nepotism does begin at home. Why after baseball, it's our national past-time. When Kennedy was president he appointed his brother to be Attorney General. When Clinton was president he put his wife in charge of health care. The first person I ever paid to do things around my house was my child. In fact, that's why I had them in the first place. I certainly wasn't going to do all those mundane things around the house like pick up after the dog and mow the lawn.

I actually had other children so the first one could be head babysitter. Well, he wanted a fucking raise! Damn unions.

Well, I arrived late, had coffee, worked on my blog and went to the Roach Coach. So I guess I should do something productive now.

I think I'll look up live journals and then maybe do some shopping on Amazon. They carry clothes from Chico's now!

Happy Thor's Day

New Magnet For The Holidays

I bought myself a new magnet for my refrigerator collection for the holidays.
I think he's very festive and the statement is quite profound. As your all know fuck is my favorite word. fffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucKKKKKK
You gotta emphasize on the f's and then the hard K at the end. When pronounced correctly, it's a beautiful thing.

And speaking of fucked. It is now time to write to the Parole Board on Elmo's behalf which I did yesterday and will mail next week.. It's due by December 18th so I'm going to post it and any input would be greatly appreciated. He goes before a panel of three appointed ex law enforcement personnel ( unbiased, I'm sure) As Elmo stated in his letter to me, "never mind that the Deputy District Attorney came to my first parole hearing admitting he still had doubts, never mind that in 1984 I was granted a Parole date at my first hearing, nevermind that my parole date was subsequently rescinded," altogether now FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK
"Please know that I am doing well." Donald Gardner, the Deputy District Attorney that put Elmo in jail, told me personally that he would not retire until he saw Elmo free. He has since retired. Okay, so the following is my letter. I get emotional so I need unbiased opinions.

December 8, 2006

Chairperson, Board of Parole Hearings
Post Office Box 4036
Sacramento, CA 95812-4036

Regarding: Elmo Chattman C-05575
Post Recision #9
CSP-Solano

To Whom It May Concern:


I am writing to the Board on behalf of my friend Elmo Chattman in hopes that you will give him a parole date as he has been in prison for over 28 years. Elmo and I have been friends for well over 30 years. We have corresponded while he has been in prison, spoke over the phone numerous times and I have visited him once.

I would not have remained friends with Elmo all these years if I did not believed that he would be a law-abiding citizen upon his release. And I cannot stress enough that the time Elmo has spent in prison is far too long for aiding and abetting his brother who killed a man in his presence 28 years ago.

I know that Elmo has a job waiting for him upon his release in the Marin County area and he also has been offered housing by Polly Walton.

However, if he needs to be released to Ventura County first, my husband and I who are homeowners have offered Elmo a place to stay. We are also both gainfully employed. I have worked in the Aerospace Industry for over 18 years and my husband has been abricklayer for 29 years. My husband has made many contacts in the constructions industry over the years, and with Elmo’s skills as a cabinetmaker, finding Elmo employment should not be difficult. We also have an extra truck that is available for Elmo to use.

Elmo has made improvements in his life while being incarcerated by earning a B.A in Journalism and his goal is to continue his education in Journalism at UC Berkeley to earn his Masters upon his release.

Putting all emotion aside, I feel compelled as a taxpayer in the State of California to voice my concerns of the economic burden placed upon myself by housing an inmate who has the ability and resources to contribute to society in a law abiding manner.

I understand that releasing an inmate is an important decision to make. I thank you for your time and consideration in this matter and I trust that you will weigh all the facts before you and look upon Elmo as a human being worthy of release.

Respectfully,

Rebecca
Quality Control Manager (should I put my job title?)

Our Library in Complete

The library is now complete with the addition of a picture by David Rivas.

John and I just love it. I want to write it a poem.

Ode to my Picture
Yellow Sun descends upon
Polluted reeds of Metallic Green
As Blue Sky concedes to Black

Slowly we submerge
Eternally, we are as one
Golden like the setting sun

You know, something like that!

The Moon Before Yule

Tonight is the Full Cold Moon also known as the Moon before Yule. Each full moon has a name. Did you know that? Last month it was a Beaver Moon which means it's time to set the beaver traps. Next year we're going to call it the Britney Moon. Good Lord you could see what she had for breakfast!

In any event, mark your calendars because before you know it the Winter Solstice will be upon us. Get yourself or a friend a nice white candle to light that night just as the sun begins to set. Or if you're near a forest dance naked.

"The longest time of Darkness in the year is called "Night of the Mother", as the Goddess labors to birth Light back into the world. At Winter solstice, the sun dies. Time stops. Then as Freya spins the wheel of fate once again, "Jul" in Norse, the sun is reborn. Her hand holds the spindle, a symbol of women's wisdom and skill. From her basket, she plucks a handful of wool, freshly combed but still unformed. Placing it on her wheel, she makes the ancient sure-handed gestures of the spinners, pulling the wool, winding it about the distaff, working it to a smooth and useful shape. So doing, she reminds us of her presence in the cycle of death and rebirth."

To all my God Fearing friends:

You can always pray for me
As long as I can dance naked in the forest for you.

And I tell you what, dancing naked is a hell of a lot funner than sitting on your knees.

Don't get me wrong, I've had fun on my knees, but strangely it never involved praying. Damned if my train of thought didn't get derailed again.

For my Children Descendents of the Ash and Elm

Listen my children, come gather ye round
for I have a fine story to tell
One of viking and lords and mystical fjords
and a women (how appropriate) named Hel

Of the Yggdrasil tree ever pure ever green
With leaves that never wither or die
Look closely tonight as the North star shines bright
Can you see the Norns weave our Fate in the sky?

In honor of Thor put a Yule log on the fire
For fallen Berserkers let them hear your proud screams
And the Bilfrost bridge just over the ridge
Will lead us to the land of dreams.

My sons, keep holy always the Mother Night
Winster Solstice, the return of the Sun
Why even the Christians (who stole our traditions)
Partake in this glorious fun.

For Jessica

The Decadent Decline of Miss B

I am blogging from the comfort of my own bed. Granted, I am sharing it with a dog, but, be that as it may, I am blogging from bed and I feel absolutely decadent.

I've been to Amazon to post a review, read that Barbara Bush(jr) was robbed of her purse while under the protection of our Secret Service, which had be rolling with laughter and I pissed off the dog. Well, he sort of "fell" off of the bed. You know, they don't land on their feet near as often as cats do?

The Vatican has completed a study on condoms. That gave me the creeps wondering if the crash test dummy actually volunteered or are they future senators in the making. Republicans, no doubt.

Okay, that was uncalled for.

Ironically, I came to bed because of my back. Well, actually the ramifications of some medication for my back which causes constipation and diarrhea, (maybe they think we're schizophrenic) Note to selves: Find out if we're schizophrenic. Oh, and bleeding ulcers, no direct sunlight, take with crackers or bread. I decided it should go best with rainbow sherbet. So, I had that in bed.

Wait, my train of thought has been derailed again. Probably another side effect. Is it effect of affect? How the hell should I know? So, I'm in bed due to my back and I came across this study on back surgery. Which is evidence enough for me this is where I should be.

That's why I just love my new laptop (it's a Toshiba) and John brought in a breakfast-in-bed tray I bought for him a while back when he had his gallbladder removed and it's like a desk in bed. (The tray not his gallbladder) And I really see no good reason why I should ever get out of bed again.


Okay, whose up for Yahtzee?

Perhaps

I was a bit hasty to be so quick to judge Mother. Today is a good example of that. I went to Ventura to meet a friend at the Psychic Fair. First thing I did wrong was go to the Marriot. Why the Marriot you ask, when the Psychic Fair is at the Crown? Because I am delusional and am under the impression that I can still remember something ten minutes from now without writing it down. I can't and I have yet to accept that fact.

Now I'm at the Marriot and I asked the young man at the front desk where is the Psychic Fair? And he replied he didn't know, but there is a group of Neuroscientists in the banquet room discussing Alzheimers. If only psychics could help those that suffer from Alzheimers, I ponder and then I scurry off to the Crown Plaza after calling Sandy for directions because she has it WRITTEN DOWN.

I get to the Crown, pull off a ticket stub to park and the bar lowers behind me. I drive around and cannot find a place to park and the little yellow bar at the other end won't lift up to let me out. Fucking piece of shit. Probably runs off of a Delco Battery. I drive back to where I entered, backwards, and no one is there to help. I drive back to the gate and it still won't rise. If only I had Cheryl with me.

Now there are two elderly ladies (who should obviously be at the Marriot) sitting and staring at the gate. "Can you get out?" I ask. "No," they exclaim in unison. I then proceed to instruct them to back up because I am driving my truck through and I don't want debris to get on their car. They are quite excited to be in on the adventure and I tell them I will not be held hostage. And they shout, "Good for you" as they back up and wave me off. I then proceed to drive up and I give the gate one more chance to rise, it doesn't. Fucking impotent piece of shit. I back up, gun it and down the road I go.

While flying down the freeway it occurs to me.

I am my mother.

Dick and Bush produce a Boehner

Comedians are working overtime. We now have a Boehner in congress. I, personally can't stop laughing because a Bush doesn't need a Dick without a Boehner. It's just a moot subject.

But seriously, we have problems women. Bush, in his infinite wisdom has selected Erik Keroak to oversee the federal Office of Population Control.

While women in countries we once thought were backward, Pakistan, India are getting their voices heard and are moving forward we're just sitting around while ours or our daughtes voices are silenced by men of religion. Again!

Just because I'm past the age of bearing children, doesn't mean I'm going to ignore the issue at hand.

And if we are going to move backward, let's push their asses all the way to the Enlightened era.

Can I get a witness?

The Wrath of Jeri

I go in to work today, my day off, and the phone rings. Who would be calling me at work on my day off?

“Quality, this is Becky.” “Becky, this is your mother.” Oh god!

“Hi mom” I respond cheerfully. The sales manager laughs while pointing and walks out of my office. Even strangers fear the wrath of Jeri and he too has a mother that is aging.

“I am sick of this fucking Delco battery and I want a new one.”

My siblings and I have always joked about “The wrath of Jeri” which is when Mother gets on a kick like a dog with a bone and won’t give up on it no matter what. And this time it’s a battery. A fucking Delco battery! Her car is seven years old “with less that six thousand miles, don’t forget” I can hear her in my head and she cannot understand why her first battery lasted six years and the second only one.

Last Friday I called to check on her. I try to call my mother every day and yes, I’m a glutton for punishment. She is my mother after all. Last week she told me her anti locking device quit working. “Why do you think that mom?” “Well, I went out to unlock the car and it wouldn’t unlock with that thing on my key ring, the transmitter, so I had to use the key and the car won’t start. I think there is something wrong with my receiver." Receivers? Transmitters? Uh oh! Mother has been reading the owners manual. She goes on to tell me how she tried to put it in gear and it wouldn’t go into neutral. “That can’t be right mom. Let me come over, I’m here in Oxnard buying dog food.” So I drive to Port Hueneme, she greets me with “I hate that fucking car!” "Hello Mother." I get her keys, listen patiently as she reads to me from the Saturn Manual about synchronizing the anti-locking device, go out to the car and unlock it and the first thing I notice is the dome light is out. “You’re battery is dead mom.” “No,” she is quick to correct me. “I drove it home last night and it was just fine. There is something wrong with the Anti-locking device.” So I read the paragraph from the book where you hold two buttons down, stand on one leg while howling at the full moon until the horn honks and the horn never honks.

So, after I convince her not to call AAA to have that “piece of crap car” towed away we go back inside and I give Saturn a call, explain the situation, the service guy places me on hold thinking I’m an idiot, comes back and tells me “sounds like the battery is dead”. I tell mom “the Service Guy says the battery is probably dead”. “Well,” she says and she is miraculously satisfied. What the fuck? I tell her I will call my husband John and he can come charge it up for her the next day or get her a new one. So we go to the store so she can stock up on food in case I don’t return for days. I go home and the phone rings. “Hello?” “Becky this is your mother. I forgot to buy lottery tickets and if I don’t play my numbers I would just die it they get called tomorrow.” Okay mom, do we need to go now?” “No, tomorrow will be fine. What time is John coming over?” “Early” I say. “How early is early?” she asks. “Somewhere between 5:30 AM and 6:00 AM. Is that okay?” “Alright, you're sure he’s coming?” “He'll be there mother.” Suddenly, I need a nap.

Next morning, bright and early the phone rings, “Hello?” “I’ve been thinking.” Mother starts out. Oh god no! “I need a new car” What? “Well, now, just think about it. Your brother always says I think the worst, but listen. The car won’t go into gear with a dead battery. What if there were a fire in the building and I had to push my car out of the garage. It won’t go into gear. Why I couldn’t even get AAA to tow it because how would they fit into the garage? Then we decide (together) that perhaps she didn’t put her foot on the brake while attempting to put the car into gear.

Well, maybe that’s it.

So now a week after my husband has had the battery charged up and she now understand that before she had a maintenance free battery and this time she didn’t so the battery needed water she wants a new battery that doesn’t need water. And she wants to go to Saturn to buy it and she wants me to take her. “You don’t need to go to Saturn to buy a battery, mother. They sell them everywhere.” Well, I know that,” she says, “but, the button on the radio fell off and I want a new one. So I need you to drive me to Saturn to get a new one.” Somehow I manage to convince her that John should go along as he is mechanical. And she is appeased for awhile.

I call her later to let her know that John will be by tomorrow and she sounds upset over the phone. “Are you alright mom?” “I guess.” She says. “What’s the matter?” “Do you know what happened to me today?” “No mother, what happened today?” “Well, I went to the mailbox and got my mail and I opened a letter before I realized it wasn’t addressed to me, but it had my address on it (like that somehow makes it legal) and it’s a letter from the library with a check for $19.00 to a young man (how she knows this I have no idea) to reimburse him for a book they said he lost, but apparently they found it now. I called the library. Have you ever called the library?” “No mom, I don’t think I have”. “Well, let me tell you they have one of those machines where you don’t get to talk to a real live person and the first selection is English! Well, that’s ridiculous. All the books in the library are in English. So, I select English and I had to push about ten buttons before I got some woman’s answering machine and her last name sounded foreign, you know, and of course she’s not in due to a family emergency. On a Friday! Well for Pete’s sake. It said so right on her machine. I left a message and I told her they need to get their act together down there. I have lived here for 12 years and this man does not live here and now I have to spend .39 cents on a fucking stamp. I have a good mind to tear this letter up, but that poor man is out $19.00. Her last name sounded foreign, you know”. “Mom, why don’t you give the letter and the check to John tomorrow and I can mail it for you?” “Well, I can mail a letter, for Pete’s sake, but why should I be inconvenienced when they screwed up?”

“I don’t know mom.” I sigh.

Nor will my children when it is my turn. And it will be my turn, it's just a matter of time. Mother isn't going down without a fight and nor will I so they better start fucking napping.

The Wrath of Becky - a family tradition.

Dear Jessica (as narrated by William Shatner)

All is not well in our little hamlet. I regret to inform you that our dear beloved little Christina has been kidnapped by a band of roving German Bears wielding weapons of corn and she has been carried off into the dark of night (or perhaps to Seattle).




She put up a vailant fight, but the minute they challenged her to a math contest, all hope was lost. Oh, the irony. I pleaded to go in her place. Obsequiously I offered myself up as their sex slave, I'm ashamed to say.

A sacrificial lamb, so to speak. But regretably I have always sucked at felatio which is why my career as a televangelist never quite took off the ground like my buddy in Colorado, but alas, I digress.

If only I had thought to offer up the stuffed turkey roll, and the chocolate triffle, the cranberry salad and asparagus in a vinegette sauce. Oh god, and the garlic potatoes swimming in gravy with ham and Korean burgers. And the Corn, and cornbread, and buttered buns. The Better-than-sex cake. I needed a cigarette when I was done with that bad boy.



Scott me up, Beamy

















We miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hurry up and build that damn bridge in Cuba and come save us.

Dear PETA, no bears were harmed during the telling of this story and stop throwing paint on my husband. That's really his hair on his back.

Abstract Rantings

Andy Warhol's "Mao" sold for a whopping $17.4 million. And speaking of famous artists ya'll need to check out David Rivas' clip at you tube. I'm sure you are all familiar with him by now from my sidebar, but I can't wait to say I knew him way back when, when he sells his art for a couple million. And I feel so fortunate to have been able to watch his success grow and it has really been a great experience to see an artist be appreciated while they are alive. Heather, how is your movie coming along, by the way?

And for some stimulating dialogue, check out On Faith. It's a great website put together by The Washington Post and Newsweek to get people to engage in an open discussion on faith, religion, etc. Each week they will have a guest "poster" and than individuals can comment. I'm in there somewhere ranting about everthing from Eve getting a bad rap to religion being a business and what ever happend to truth in advertising?

We had our pre-Thanksgiving dinner at work today and tonight I'll be doing it again with the Knitster Sisters.

My weaving project is coming along and I will post a picture soon.

An Update from Elmo

Elmo called tonight and he wanted me to give the ladies in my "knitting circle" a big hello and a man hug for John.

He's in good spirits considering he's on another lockdown. This one is for the Norovirus outbreak in the prison. So, with the overcrowding and less than adequate plumbing, it's not a pretty picture. But he was upbeat because he got a letter from Heather and he was happy to hear that all the ladies carry a picture of him in their wallet. That just blew him away and really meant a lot to him, Julie.

The Prison Guard's contract has not yet been renewed, but here's some info for all you tax payers on where your money goes. Oh, and don't get me started on what we pay to guard the comatose. Unfucking believable. Sorry Marc.

Thanks again to the ladies for helping to keep Elmo sane. Oh, and man hugs to John whatever that might be.

Oh Oh Oh and I got a plate from my boss from Italy. It's a pasta plate and is presently holding candy on my desk at work, but I will post a picture soon.

Life's Little Ironies

Or "How I spent my Veterans Day".

I was on the internet getting cranky with Bush (the Draft Dodger)and Veteran's Day. The site of him saluting a soldier at Arlington Cemetary gave me the creeps. I love cemetaries and I don't like creeps in them. It's disrespectful to the dead.

So I left and went to the Coffee Bean for my morning coffe and there was this guy twisting his back, so naturally I stated, "I wished I could move like that." As my brother always says, "you'd talk to a serial killer if he stood next to you in line."

He asked if I had back problems. I told him my story and he has a herniated disc too, only worse, and is waiting for a new procedure performed by the Kaiser on Sunset Blvd. (I think). His name was Ronny and he was from Israel and had the coolest accent. We talked about everything from George W. Bush to Sai Baba.

Has anyone heard of Sai Baba? Note to self: Read up on Sai Baba.

Ronny had nice things to say about our country which was ironic considering I was just cranky about Bush (the draft dodger) and Veteran's Day.

If it weren't for my first weaving lesson I would have talked to him all day he was that fascinating. It was also cute to see him struggle with English.

So, I went to my weaving lesson, made a wrong turn and ended up at a turkey shoot, "what the fuck", turned around and made it to class in time by way of walking through this art studio with sculptures, ceramics, baskets and god knows what else I could ruin with this fricken loom flung over my shoulder like a bull in a china shop. The first question the instructor asks was "what made you want to learn to weave?" I told her about these garments I saw at the Santa Monica Fiber Arts Show and how beautiful they were and how I wanted to try it and I remember they were right across from the Cat's and Cobwebs booth and (did I mention I can talk forever?) and it was her stuff.

So, I got my first weaving lesson from the woman whose garments inspired me to weave.

All in all it was a good day and it took a foreigner to remind me I live in a good country, despite the draft dodger in the house. He'll be gone soon.


And that fact alone made me beam.

My Morning Drill

So I've been licking the cats butt, why won't you kiss me?


That's not the spot dammit! Don't make me cranky.


That't it! Oh god, that's the spot. Yes! Yes! Yes!


This is the part where Louis imagines he has a thumb and lights up a cigarette.

It's a Full Beaver Moon

Oh, Ward.

Nov. 5, 7:58 a.m. EST: The Full Beaver Moon. Time to set beaver traps before the swamps freeze to ensure a supply of warm winter furs. Another interpretation suggests that the name Beaver Full Moon comes from the fact that the beavers are now active in their preparation for winter. Also called the Frosty Moon.





And it burps. Which might explain why it appears bloated again.






The tiny dot on the face of the sun yesterday was Mercury crossing.

















The shining splendor of the Valkyries as they fly across the early morning sky as they gather the slain was believed what caused the Aurora Borealis.

Bad ass chicks.


Happy Freya's Day.

Lifes Little Lessons

Tonight our grandson Eli is sleeping over and after we watched "Over the Hedge" where the bear was quite scarry and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (because sloppy joes are NOT like hamburgers) it was time for a snack.

So I gave him a chocolate chip cookie with a blue gatorade and he looked at me so confused as he innocently stated, "Grandma, you have milk with cookies!"

And so he did.

The War on Anxiety

Does anyone understand exactly what the "War on Terror" means? Isn't that like the War on Anxiety? Are they going to take away my Zanax? I personally cannot understand how you can have a metaphoric war, but then I've never been in the military, but apparently that doesn't matter because neither have our leaders who have lead us to this place. How about a War on Hypocrisy in Religion.? Sign me up.

The idea is too subjective for me to wrap my mind around. You might as well tell me we are having a war on philosophy because I wouldn't understand that either. Apparently we have had numerous metaphoric wars and we suck at them.

Does anyone remember who won the War on Poverty? I don't even remember the sit in. Or how about the War on Drugs? How about a war on laundry?

As you can see I'm not real happy with our situation, but as Emerson so eloquently phrased it, "The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well."

So, be useful, be honorable, be compassionate, make a difference and don't forget to vote.

Mercury Retrograde

Mercury is presently in retrograde and will be until well after our next election. Oh no not again!. Now, I'm afraid to vote.

Our computer at work is out of wack, everyone seems to be running around like headless chickens, utter chaos, blaming one another.

I decided to get new tires on the truck and was notified that the brake cylinders are shot and it's going to cost me $1200 to fix them. Plus tires!

And now my blog won't let me add the new book I'm reading due to an error.

I'm going to assume the fetal position until this thing passses.

One Down

Christmas is just around the corner and I have completed one gift so far. The bonnet-scarf from Knit 2 Together

It was really simple to do and I've already started another one as a gift.

I had to don the sunglasses to go incognito into the garage, the place is a freakin dive and the paparazzi are everywhere these days. John is working on yet another project,like a mad scientist, that doesn't involve LAYING TILE!

If You're Not Outraged, You're Not Paying Attention

Tag is being banned from school yards across our nation. And I thought the Taliban went berserk when they banned kite flying in Afghanistan, but hey, what do I know?

I can just envision millions of American children standing at a complete stand still on the school yards during recess with their little hands plunged deep into their pockets where their yo yo’s use to be, heads hung low while the rusty swing sets (that they are no longer allowed to swing on) creaks in the wind like a fucking Twilight Zone episode.

When I was a kid we were allowed to play tether ball, dodge ball, hop scotch, tag and Red Rover. We even got to bring our own clackers to school. Does anyone remember clackers? You could put your fucking eye out or break a bone if you didn’t do it correctly. You fucked up once you didn’t do it again. And that’s how we learned.

If we got hurt it was our fault. If somebody else hurt us we were told we probably deserved it and we shut about it. It was excellent preparation for a world that is, more often than not, unfair. If we saw a construction site unattended we’d jump off of roofs into piles of insulation, which, I might add, is not wise to do with your brand new winter coat. I had to wear that scratchy thing until I grew out of it.

My point is, kids are going to play and they are going to get hurt and that’s how they learn. You cannot bring life into the world without accepting the fact that it will leave this world and in between shit is going to happen. It's called life.

I want to see children live (scabs and all) and not merely exist and I WILL PLAY TAG.

The Cracker Don't Fall Far From The Box

I think a lot of our problems are because people don't listen to our children. It's not always easy. They're not always so brilliant that you want to spend hours with them. Barbara Bush

Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. Mark Twain

I had to put “State of Denial” by Bob Woodward down because it was far too depressing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good book. I just found myself spending my nights worrying about which knucklehead in power is going to do something extremely stupid that will affect my world tomorrow.

So last night I pulled “Snow” by Orhan Pamuk off my library shelf and started in and by the time I got to page three I had a revelation.

As long as we have writers and poets and artists in the world who elevate mankind, who offer a balance to the madness we find in our political leaders, who expose the ugliness of the world not because they want to exact revenge, but because they want to encourage change, even at the risk of their own lives by sharing, I can sleep again.

And I feel safer just knowing they are out there.

First Fire of The Season

Since I'm damn near freezing here in California (I believe it was a brisk 72 today) we had our first fire in the new fire place and the majority of the animals were in favor.

Louis and Eli debate over who will investigate.

Louis was brave and went first.

Eli, ever the ham, took advantage of a photo op.

Stops to smell roses.

And then takes a nap.

Old Blue came and warmed his bones.

While Louis takes refuge under the coffee table and stared into the fire while pondering the meaning of life. This cat is deep.

Why My House Is Never Clean

As you can see I have shit to do. To the left are socks for a special someone for The Winter Solstice. Yesterday I gathered rocks to engrave runic symbols into so I can have my own set of runes made by Moi. Today's catch in roses from my rose garden that John made for me in the front yard. Louis killed a bird today to impress me so we are not on speaking terms. Another pair of socks for the Winter Solstice and a purse for me by Mel from Wildfiber.


Oh, and in the background is a lace project that has now been put on hold. And I also have another shawl project that is MIA.

Maybe I could get a maid. But she'd have to be like Hazel.

And my life would not be complete without the ever present cup of caffeine, in some form or another.

Now it's time to shower and get ready for Linner with the Knit Wits.

That's Life In The City

Well the city was out this morning bright and early and ground the crack on the sidewalk. Personally I can think of better things to do with crack, but I digress. So they wake up my neighbor (who is not a morning person, I might add)and now she wants me to write her a letter to the city because they woke her up.

She witnessed two city trucks, six city employees (and someone barking orders over a walkie talkie) to grind a crack.

Apparently this is the city's idea of fixing the sidewalk.

What a fucking joke.

But John came through on the ladscaping. But it looks like the city gave it a bit of a powerwash to show me whose boss. "That should shut her up", the city worker smirked.




Don't fuck with me motherfucker
Because I put the mother in MOTHERFUCKER**

You can kiss my left lip.

**I'm not really sure, technically, what that means, but I sure like saying it and I feel much better now. Really, I'm doing much better now.

The folks at the home are going to let me weave a basket today.

At War With The City

I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore. Does anyone have anything to add?

October 7th, 2006

D. J. Sotelo, Code Enforcement Officer
Code Enforcement Division
Department of Community Development
601 Carmen Drive
Camarillo, CA 93011-0248

Re:

Dear Mr. Sotelo:

Your letter of October 2nd, has me somewhat confused. You state in your letter that, “a subsequent field inspection revealed that you have failed to comply with the municipal code AND you refrained from contacting us to discuss the matter or request additional time to correct the stated violations.” What are you, new? That is an untrue statement.

As you are obviously unaware, upon receiving your original letter of September 7th, I went to the City of Camarillo on September 15th, and discussed the situation. I requested that the sidewalk in front of my residence be fixed before landscaping the parkway as the sidewalk has been lifted by roots and needs to be fixed. I was given a copy of the Camarillo Request for Service that was issued September 15th, it states, “Code enforcement case – needs to be taken car of ASAP. Homeowner waiting until sidewalk fixed.” Someone from the city came and cut the roots off of the tree, painted the sidewalk orange along the crack and we were told that someone would return and fix the sidewalk. So we have been waiting for the sidewalk to be fixed.

But now, not only do I have a sidewalk that is a hazard to pedestrians, but a tree that is now a hazard because it’s root system has been severed. We all know when roots are severed, trees often die, limbs fall off and the tree sometimes falls over, or if I’m lucky, multiple roots will grow where the other roots were severed. The most efficient thing to have done would have been for the city to place a barrier between the tree and the sidewalk so the sidewalk doesn’t get worse, or if I dare say, the sidewalk gets fixed like I asked in the first place. You see, this would preclude this from happening again. Call me crazy, but I really have a problem with my tax dollars being spent on the same mistake twice.

Furthermore I am incensed that because I dared to request that a hazardous sidewalk be fixed I have now incurred another hazard in the form of a tree that could topple due to incompetence.

So in closing, to preclude further hazards from incompetent city workers, the parkway has been irrigated and landscaped.

I would like to take this opportunity to report graffiti on my sidewalk, but I'm afraid what that might entail.


Rebecca K. Gojkovich
Living in fear in Camarillo

For Heather, Who Asks Questions

Yes, we can write letters.

Peggy McHenry
Chief, Regulations Unit
California Department of Corrections
1515 S Street
Sacramento, CA 95814

Dear Ms. McHenry:


I have a friend who is in prison and has been for over 25 years. We have been friends since high school. For Christmas I sent him some gifts, a book of poetry by Rumi and an art book “A Star for Noon” by Gordon Parks.

He was allowed to keep the book of poetry but the art book, of female nudes with still lifes, 18 previously unpublished poems and a CD of chamber music, was returned to me because of nudity in the art book.

There is a vast difference between female nudity in the form of art, which is respectful and pornography, which is not.

When the gift I gave was returned to me, I was both frightened and frustrated. I had no idea that in our enlightened society a human being could be denied art.

I have enclosed a poem that I wrote out of that frustration as I find poetry cathartic. I am not so full of myself as to think that by my writing a simple letter, things will be changed. But I do feel that it is important to express my concerns in this matter.

Art lifts and heals the human spirit. Why those who are imprisoned are denied exposure to art -of any form- is beyond my realm of understanding.

Denied!
By Rebecca K. Gojkovich

Written upon the receipt of my gift, “A Star For Noon”
Denied by the Warden of a California Correctional Facility

Denied of our right to give freely from our collective heart
To give the gift of chamber music, poetry and art

To him who has been housed for so long
In your industrial concrete and steel

We tried to bring beauty
In images, song, and the written word.

It was “An Homage to Women”
In no way intended to cause a hostile environment toward women.

As if their witnessing, daily, human beings caged like animals
Were not hostile enough.

We envisioned him with eyes closed, his head tilted back
As the music takes him away.

To a place where flutes caress him like the wings of a dove.
Cellos mourn and weep for his losses.

While violins bring to him fond memories.
And the perseverance of the piano

And the angry beating of the drums
Reinforces his desire to never give up.

In the images of women and the words of Gordon Parks
We tried to bring to him a small piece of humanity

So that he will not forget
In that place where he lives

That there are those who still care
And always will.

The above is my response to the warden for denying my gift. She never wrote back.

Senator Majority Leader Richard G. Polanco
State Capital, Room 313
Sacramento, CA 95814

Dear Honorable Senator Polanco:

I am writing to you on behalf of my friend Elmo Chattman, who is incarcerated at CSP-Solano. Elmo recently (September 16, 2002) had a hearing before the Board of Prison Terms and was denied parole for another two years. It was brought to my attention, that the letter I wrote on behalf of Elmo Chattman, stating that he had a job waiting for him when he gets out of prison, and a place to stay with my husband, children and me, was never placed as part of the packet he took to the Board. This important information – that Elmo has a job and place to live upon release – was therefore not presented to the Board.

In brief, Elmo was with his brother when his brother spontaneously shot and killed a man. His brother even stated at his own hearing, in 2001, that Elmo tried to stop him from shooting the man. So you can imagine my surprise when Kenny (Elmo’s brother) GOT a date from the board and Elmo didn’t. How can the man that pulled the trigger get a release date and the one who tried to stop him be denied?

Elmo got his BA degree (from Antioch College) when he was at San Quentin. More recently he has taken a course through UC’s Graduate School of Journalism. He was editor of the San Quentin News in the 1980’s. Elmo is also a poet who has studied with Judith Tannenbaum when she taught at San Quentin. Elmo is a primary character in Judith’s book, Disguised as a Poem, My years Teaching Poetry at San Quentin (Northeastern University Press, 2000) and he helped Judith with the editing of that book.

Throughout the years I have kept in touch with our Deputy District Attorney Donald Grant who attended Elmo’s previous hearings in favor of Elmo’s release to our County of Ventura and who promised me that he would not retire until he saw Elmo released. He has since retired. So, I really don’t know where to turn at this point, and am asking for your assistance in this matter.

Putting all emotions aside for my dear friend Elmo, I wish to express my disappointment as a concerned citizen. I feel it is unfair to continue burdening taxpayers, for the continued incarceration of inmates who are no longer a threat to society and are suitable for release back into society. This is particularly troublesome when the perpetrator of the crime was given a parole date, and the man who tried to prevent the crime continues to be denied a date.

Sincerely,


Rebecca K. Gojkovich

(Kenny's parole date was denied by the governor)

Board of Prison Terms
1515 K Street, 16th floor
Sacramento, CA 95814
ATTN: Pam-- Correspondence

Subject: Elmo Chattman; C-05575
Post Recision #7
CSP-Solano


Dear Honorable Board Members:

I am writing on behalf of my friend Elmo Chattman. I have written to the board in the past so you are already aware that I have known Elmo since I was a Freshman in High School. I have corresponded with Elmo throughout the years and my husband and I have visited with Elmo, as well. My husband John has known Elmo since Junior High School.

With this letter I would like to take the opportunity to let the Board know that upon Elmo’s release he has a place to stay at our home in Camarillo, Ventura County. My husband and I our both gainfully employed. My husband is a mechanic for a Tree Care Company and I am a Quality Control Manger for a company that manufactures forgings for the aerospace industry.

We own our own home. We have two children still living at home ages 22 (Joseph, a bricklayer/tender) and 17 (Jacob, a senior in high school). My husband John and I have discussed with both of our children their thoughts on having Elmo coming to live with us upon his release and they both can’t wait for Elmo to join us. My children have spoken with Elmo over the years on the telephone and Elmo has sent to them books, etc., so he is not a stranger to my family. He is family. My family would all like very much to share with Elmo this new phase in his life.

So please let us.




And through it all he still has this to say.

Finding Peace

Listen . . .
In the quiet stillness
of this dingy cell,
something is afoot.
Time is marching on, dutifully,
despite my plaintive protests.
The years have become my foe
taking my youth, yet delivering me
no closer to freedom.
The mirror and these gray hairs conspire
to taunt me, to paint a portrait,
an image of me I fail to recognize.
The immortality I once knew
has been made a myth, displaced
by the burgeoning reality
of middle-age,
the new captain of my fate
with whom I must grudgingly
make my peace.


-- Elmo Chattman

Vacaville, CA 95696-4000

Shine on, Shine on Harvest Moon

Tonight is the Harvest moon. The first full moon nearest the autumnal equinox.

So, put your Tarot cards on the window sill so they can absorb the moon rays.




And, tonight's full moon is almost 12 percent bigger because it is near perigee, the point on it's oblong orbit that is closest to the earth. Or maybe it's just bloated.

The Harvest Moon in October only happens every 3 years.

Did you know that moonlight steals color?

Luna, the wife of Zeus, was the mother of 50 children. Well, hell yeah, she was a freaking lunatic. I have four and look at me. Sitting on the computer, ranting about the moon on a Friday night.

Oooo and next Friday is the 13th. I can't wait.

Nobel Prize Week Madness

While I often rant about women, I do recognize the great works of men. Like Alfred Nobel, who felt it fitting to leave his fortune to people whose works would most benefit humanity without distinction of nationality.

The whole of my remaining realizable estate shall be dealt with in the following way: the capital, invested in safe securities by my executors, shall constitute a fund, the interest on which shall be annually distributed in the form of prizes to those who, during the preceding year, shall have conferred the greatest benefit on mankind. The said interest shall be divided into five equal parts, which shall be apportioned as follows: one part to the person who shall have made the most important discovery or invention within the field of Physics; one part to the person who shall have made the most important Chemical discovery or improvement; one part to the person who shall have made the most important discovery within the domain of physiology or Medicine ; one part to the person who shall have produced in the field of literature the most outstanding work of an idealistic tendency; and one part to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses. The prizes for physics and chemistry shall be awarded by the Swedish Academy of Sciences; that for physiological or medical work by the Caroline Institute in Stockholm; that for literature by the Academy in Stockholm, and that for champions of peace by a committee of five persons to be elected by the Norwegian Storting. It is my express wish that in awarding the prizes no consideration whatever shall be given to the nationality of the candidates, but that the most worthy shall receive the prize, whether he be a Scandinavian or not.

So, inspire a child, and turn them on to some educational games at the Noble Prize Website. Or better yet, reawaken the child in you.

For example,my boss thinks I'm working overtime, but I have just freed the world from nuclear weapons.

Educational Games

The Fight Must Continue

Safia Amajan, a leader in the rights for women, was laid to rest this week after being shot to death while wearing the traditional Islamic Burqa. Safia was on her way to work as director of Afghans Ministry to Women’s Affairs. Her requests for protection and safe transportation had been denied by her government. While a teacher for over 30 years, she also ran an underground school to teach girls.

In 2001, she opened 6 schools and helped teach over 1,000 women. This year alone, over 158 schools have been attacked in Afghanistan because they dare to teach women.

She refused to give up knowing the consequences of her actions because the future of other women's lives meant more to her than her own.

This week my biggest complaint was I was treated badly by a man over the phone because he doubted my female ability to interpret a specification.

I complain out of ignorance, because I forget how good I have it. I forget I can work where I want, wear what I want, learn what I want and say what I want and I want that for all women. I really do. But realistically, I'm not getting off my ass to do anything about it except send a check or talk about it.

But Safia walked the walk and for that she is my hero.

The Adventures of Sandy and Becky

So tonight Sandy drove us to Hollywood to get our Knit 2 Together books signed by Mel Clark and Tracy Ullman. We had already purchased our books at Mels' store, but it was fun to go to Hollywood. And anytime Sandy and I get together it's a laugh-fest that the rest of the motorist population is not amused by.

But I have to tell you about this guy sitting in the back during the book reading. I swear he was a cross between Stephen Hawkins and a heckler with Turrets Syndrome. He would pop off with the strangest string of words strung together and start laughing and then I was laughing so hard I was crying. People were staring like I was crazy. I should have known something was up when they had us sitting in the sports section. He would mumble something, say "degenerates" then write in a book. Later Sandy asked "what was he saying about Ellen?"

So, we got in line and had our books signed (that we bought at Mel's store) joked with Tracy about Mental Illness and then asked Mel if in her next book she would be so kind as to put in some recipes for scones or at the very least teach us American's how to make a decent spot of tea.

Met some more knitters and Sandy met a knitter with an Akita. Just like Jack. There was a fellow knitter sitting next to me during the reading and his name is Dave and Sandy and I visited with him over coffee after the reading. He is an amazing knitter. The sweater he had on was gorgerous. The color scheme umbelievable and he knit it in the round and then cut it. If he ever gives lessons I am definitely signing up.

Dave and Sandy were sitting there talking about things like New York, Habu and advertising and I'm looking for my needle that turns out to stuck behind my ear. Same place I always lose my pens.

I have a feeling that's how the heckler with turrets sydrome started out.

Heather and Dave's Big Day

So, the big day finally arrived. The ceremony was beautiful, the vows were awesome, the food was incredible.

There are too many pictures to post on my blog so I posted them here.

Heather and Daves Big Day

Enjoy.

Budda and the Wand

We went to see Jackie for her birthday and had a great time. We bought her a chakra wand for her birthday and a Budda for her and Josh for a house warming present.

I think next year I'm getting her a Thomas Guide and a compass, because we got lost four fucking times people.

I'm not shitting you and don't even get me started on that shit.

Any who we had a great italian dinner sans the blue cheese on our pizza. Enjoyed a few galleries (did you know Jimi Hendrix paid a friend $1500 a week just to roll joints?) And then kicked it with the younguns and watched their cat Krypto. She's very amusing.

Ya'll need to check out the new additino to my sidebar. I get to say I knew him way back when.

Tis Better To Give

It’s been a great week for gift giving.

George Lucas gave 175 Million to USC.

The Gates Foundation gave 1.8 billion to a Los Angeles Charter school organization.

And my man Bubba, aka Bill Clinton, hosted a conference and was able to get 215 world leaders, corporate giants and various celebrities together for three days and they have collectively pledged 7.3 billion to help reduce global warming, fight third world poverty, disease and ethnic strife.

And this was his debut conference.

I feel all warm and fuzzy.

Concerned Knitters For America

We interrupt your regular blog to bring this important announcement. Heather is joining the Republican Party. We repeat Heather is joining the Republican Party and her first act as a Repubican will be to form her own chapter of Concerned Knitters For America in honor of her hero Nancy Reagan. Who knew? Julie and I dual with our cameras. (banjos play in the background)

Heather sleeps while sitting up as she is certain clowns will kill her. She even made a freakin shirt and want's to buy a button machine









Side Note: There is much discussion about Pirates, dildos, remote controls, dildos with remote controls, fire dancers and guess who's sleeping with "the man upstairs".













Cheryl is wondering what the house is going to look like when she gets home after realizing she left the furbees alone with fresh batteries and a six pack of beer.

This has been a strange turn of events. We return you now to your regular blog.