No Bed for You!

I'd have to say that every fortune cookie fortune I've ever seen does indeed get funnier or at least takes on a new meaning when you add "in bed" to the end.

But today I got the one that doesn't. :-P It's a shame, it could *use* the extra meaning. It makes... NO sense. Wow. For your entertained bemusement, here it is:

Consolidate your interest while the lights are active.

No, really, that's *exactly* what it says.

No joke.

So, no, "Consolidate your interests while the lights are active in bed" makes no more sense, and is not really funny.

*shakes head in confusion*

My Dentist Recommends Yoga

Yeah, you read it right. :-P

During my regular cleaning, I told my dentist about the faint and non-localized jaw pain I've been having. After a careful check on the left side for cavities, he told me my hunch that I'd been clamping my jaw at night again was correct. I do that when I'm stressed.

He said there were definite signs. Not chipped teeth or extra bone growth, thankfully, which are two of the things that can happen. And I'm not having joint trouble like the other times this has gotten bad. But the signs are there.

You see, when you clamp your teeth, your tongue tenses up and flattens against the roof of your mouth, pressing against your teeth. If you do this often, the lactic acid can be trapped along the edges, discoloring and reforming the tissue.

"So my tongue is striped?"

"Yes, your tongue is striped. Actually, it's more like... your tongue is... fluted!"

"Scalloped?"

"Yes, scalloped."

"Huh!"

So he asked me if I'd ever done yoga, and thinks learning some physical relaxation techniques would really help the clenching. I'd actually been concidering it, so I think I'll look into getting some at home stuff, since my schedule is so erratic.

Especially because my jaw isn't the only thing I've been clenching.

I've been waking up with my hands balled into tight fists. And it's starting to really affect my typing and manual dexterity. My hands hurt, my wrists hurt, and sometimes my forearms hurt. I'm going to make a doctor's appointment tomorrow, I think. This blog is taking much longer than it should. And sadly, it will be the last one I write for a while.

I have made a resolution. No more blogs until at least Monday. No IMs over the weekend. No responding to e-mail unless it's a must. I'm really going to miss you guys. :-( But typing is how I make a living right now, and I need to save it for work until this gets better.

I hope to get this worked out soon. Until then...

Does anyone have a yoga mat I could borrow?

It Loses Something in Translation

It's an interesting problem for a translator. It's an interesting problem for a journalist.

I was listening to NPR on the way home. They were doing a story on brick kilns in China that kidnapped laborers and worked below the radar as far as government regulations go. One farmer described how the polluted smoke would roll down the hillside from the kiln to his farm. He exclaimed, in the words of the translator:

"These companies, they have money and connections, they can pollute as much as they want. We don't have money or connections, and we get in trouble for polluting if we so much as break wind."

I found myself wondering if the term the farmer had used in Chinese was more equivalent to the very polite and somewhat picturesque "break wind" or if what he actually said was more along the lines of something coarse like "farted."

Now, it *really* doesn't matter. But it got me thinking. If the man had been speaking English, and had said "farted," would they have used the quip? It's not a bad word, but it's somewhat crude. And the tone of journalism on NPR is pretty high-brow (though I'm occasionally irritated by grammatical mistakes in their coverage).

If he's said it in English, and they *couldn't* use it, would they have paraphrased? Voiced over? What? Perhaps the person they were interviewing used a more polite term. Though I thought I heard a guffaw of the"Oh no he didn't" sort in the background. But since they had the opportunity to choose the English they would use, and didn't have to use someone's actual English words...

I'm just curious about how NPR handles/handled that. As a person interested in the problems of translation.

Happy Father's Day

Whew. Going to bed soon, so it's almost over. Most of the day was all right, really. But it had it's moments.

There was a dark-haired man in Berryhill with his little girl. She looked about two or three, adorable little blonde girl. Most people realize that children are precious and should be cherished as they grow. They'll never be so small and innocent again. My thoughts went out to the little girl, though. Make him proud. Be his joy, the delight of his eyes, and learn everything you can from him. Cherish him while you've got him, because no one will ever love you like your Daddy.

Getting ready for the Father's Day concert, the one actual fatherly event I had all day. It was raining and dreary. I felt so lonely. My father told me I was his better self, the person he would be if he could do it all again. But he is also my better self, the person I am so lucky I have the chance to be like. No one will ever love me or be so proud of me as my Father. God I miss him.

The concert went well, and I felt much better as it went. But it just felt strange. Something kept nagging at me. I finally realized what it was in the Red Lion, when Zev said maybe he should call his dad. Lots of people had been talking about calling home, and the thought had been in my mind that I needed to call home...

And talk to Dad.

I just, I wanted to call him, and... and to tell him... God, everything.

The director of the choir I just joined told a beautiful story about how after his father's death, he had a dream of walking through a beautiful wood behind his dad. And then, in this gorgeous clearing his father stopped and turned, and smiled. Later in his life, he was walking in some woods, and came to a clearing, and recognized the clearing from his dream.

I visited Yellowstone shortly after my dad died, and I was pretty numb. But the mountains and the rivers spoke to me, stirred things inside of me, and I knew my father would have loved this place. I dreamed, later, that I was visiting it with him, and he was loving every minute.

And I wanted to enjoy it with him, but I couldn't. All I could think of was, "You're going to die. You have to know, I have to tell you." But I couldn't tell him. He couldn't understand me. And I couldn't just enjoy being with him again in that amazing place. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn't.

What is it about me that has such a hard time treasuring what I have because it's not everything I want? I have to work on that.

My Rice Owls did me proud today. So the day is ending on a high note. And I don't have to deal with this particular holiday for another year. Still, I wish I could have visited his grave.

Sherrie gave me a lovely idea. She said I needed to go out and buy a helium balloon, and release it and watch it float away, and that is how I can call him when I need to.

All of you who have fathers, hug them for the one I can't hug. Hope you and they had a wonderful day.

Game 1. INSANE.

Rice...

Fight...

Never die...

Blue, gray...

In the sky!

Stand! Cheer! Drink more beer!!!

GO! GO! GOOOOOOOOOOOO RICE!!!!!



Oh my gosh. When I joined the game today, we were behind 5-4. Then we went 6-4. Then 10-4. Then 10-5.

Then 10-6. Then 10-7. 8.

9.

10. Tie game.

.
.
.
Rice 11-10. 12-10! 13, 14, 15-10!

Rice ahead, 15-10!

Rice...

WINS 15-10.

OH.

MY.

GOD.

Excuse me while I go collapse.

Nawlin's, Sugah :-)

I'm in New Orleans, in the W again. I like this place!

It's been an interesting trip, starting with Hobby security. I wore my green Nerds shirt today, and a TSA agent asked me, "So, are you a nerd?" She seemed quite taken aback when I said, "Yup!"

"Oh, well, that's okay. Nerds are great people." Um, all right.

I've never seen security held up by so many people in a row. First there was the guy in the wheel chair, but that's not at all outlandish, so we'll pass over him. But, then there was the guy who kept setting off the metal detector. He finally figured out it was his "back brace." At least, that's what he called it. Only, well, it looked for all the world like the unfanciest whale-bone corset on earth. Then the girl in front of me had to get wanded. Turns out she had metal in her weave.

o_O

Apparently I'm getting good at this carry-on only travel. The TSA guy at the end of the metal detector was explaining to Miss Metal-Weave that her toiletries were not up to regulations. He was explaining that she couldn't take what she had and could get more at the shops in the terminal, and just as she asked how they needed to be, my bin came sliding out with my neatly packed quart bag of 3 oz bottles lying on top.

"This, here! This is exactly, this is beautiful, perfect, this is exactly, who's is this?"

I think I made his day. :-P People must be getting this wrong. A lot.

Got to New Orleans without incident. We flew along the coast, so I amused myself by staring at the shoreline. The flight attendant taking drink orders had to tap me on the shoulder, and seemed pleasantly amused by my childish wonder with the view.

I decided to practice being friendly and outgoing to strangers. This is hard for me. But I asked the cabby if I could sit up front with him, and chatted about travel in general, foreign travel, the history in New Orleans, and all sorts of stuff. He asked me if I've ever eaten at Mother's, since it was right across the street from the W. He said it was pretty much the best hole in the wall in town.

So after I settled in, I headed over there. They serve breakfast all day. I like places that serve breakfast all day. Their sign says "World's best baked ham." So I got that with my scrambled eggs and grits. It was sooooo good. But I couldn't finish. So much grits. Best grits I'd ever had, but so many of them. I swear I ate half of them, and you couldn't tell I'd touched them. I highly recommend.

After dinner I walked into the French Quarter to catch my tour. I stopped by the Hardrock to see if they had the guitar pick charms. They don't. Again. I swear, I've been to that store so many times, and they only had it once, before I started collecting, when a friend got one. Maybe I'll just see if I can find one on eBay.

The other guy behind the counter said, "Hey, we have actual guitar picks!" I told him that I had guitar picks already, from the Gibson factory in Memphis.

"But these say Hardrock!"

"GIBSON FACTORY."

"Okay, yeah, that's pretty cool."

So, I caught my tour, it was fun, my feet are killing me. But the tour guide was great, and I really enjoy just wandering around the French Quarter.

My room has a DVD player, so I'm watching X-Files now. After this episode, I should get to bed, since I have that early meeting and all. Back in town and back to the usual tomorrow.

It's been a great afternoon.

Hallmark Moment

I made a Walgreen's run for some deoderant (do you know how hard it is to find unscented solid???). Anyways.

Something drove me, compelled me, I don't know what, and I don't know why. I just felt drawn into the greeting card aisle, with a nagging in the back of my mind that there was something I was forgetting.

Oh, right. The hell. That's what I was forgetting. The pain and the loss and the loneliness had slipped my mind.

I stepped into the Hallmark aisle, thinking it would be nice maybe to get something for Mom. A random thinking of you, for no reason at all. I looked up, and was caught full in the face by a wall of Father's Day cards.

Damn it all to hell.

It never is going to be all better. I guess I should be glad it's as good as it is.

Just every so often, I have a moment.

I love you, Daddy. I miss you so much.

Je Souhaite

I wish my eyes could be
A mirror that you'd look into and see
All the good I see in you
Not without fault
No one can be
But with fault in its place
Not shadowing the shining truth

I see your faults
They stand beside the good
Not behind it, not before
Just as the bad should be
Owned,not gilded over
So should every good
Shine out unblemished
As much a part of us
As all our flaws
And thrown into the balance
Of our souls
To make us human
Precious in ourselves
Whole

My wish is that you always see
All that I see and love in you
Yourself

No Interwebs

My personal on-ramp to the information superhighway is under construction. Or, my modem is hosed. I get no interwebs at home. Sigh.

I post to you now from Mark and Joanna's house. I should probably go soon and be social. If I'm truly motivated, I might go get a new modem tomorrow morning. It's much more likely that I won't get this fixed until Monday at the earliest.

Until then, I likely won't be blogging or IMing. Hope you can survive without me in your cyberlife. :-P

I did, however, pound out a fair chunk of the first chapter of my novel last night. If I took a month off from nightly internet access, I might actually write a book. :-P