Da Goddess

Tuesday night, 9pm. Discovery Channel.

Don’t miss the premiere of Season 5. We’ll finally find out what happens with Capt. Phil Harris and the rest of the crab fishing daredevils.

You definitely need to see this.

Also, I was recently awarded two passes for the first annual Catchcon in Seattle on April 25. If you have flight vouchers or tons of frequent flyer miles to spare, I could use a ticket and you could join me in this adventure! I need a response quickly, though. If I don’t book this in the next two days, I will have to forfeit the passes and let someone else go.

Yes, you read that correctly: in exchange for a plane ticket, you get to attend Catchcon with me.

You have to respond by no later than Thursday, though.

Now, remember, watch Deadliest Catch Tuesday night at 9pm!

I suppose I should have waited until Holy Thursday to post these photos, but I rather felt that this was a good bridge between western and Orthodox Easter. Either way, I was fascinated by this installment at Rhyolite and the fact that I saw it so close to Easter, well, that was a blessing of a different sort.

It’s that time of year again when I must split myself in two. An “early” Easter greeting this week, to be followed by another one next week when Orthodox Christians celebrate their Pascha.

It’s rather odd to split one of my favorite days into two different celebrations, but that’s how it goes. At least these Easters are only a week apart this year. (I’ll explain more during the week.) Each year is different and when the days are different, I rejoice in being able to spend the western Easter with Little Dude, as he spends Orthodox Easter with his dad and his dad’s family. I miss those celebrations, personally. I mean, I love the big picnic and the fellowship, not to mention the various activities of Holy Week. Still, to be able to spend time with my family, including my son, it’s a good thing every time.

Regardless of when or what you may be celebrating today, this week, or at some point in the near future, have a wonderful day! May your spirit be renewed and may you find many blessings before you.

DG & LD

That’s what a recent spam email had as a title. I quite liked it. Although, to be honest, I don’t know many people who carry around a peanut in their pants. Millimeter peters, yes. But peanuts, no.

I haven’t had such a good laugh from spam in a long time. The mere though of that peanut… I mean, I don’t think of it as a euphemism for a penis, so I have to wonder: is it in their pocket? A cuff? Or is it just free-floating, occasionally lodged here and there? That must be terribly uncomfortable. Or maybe it’s a huge turn-on. I don’t know! But part of me is oddly curious.

It’s been an interesting day. One and a half hours of sleep, thanks, in part, to an ill-advised dinner beverage of iced tea, was followed by a fun trip to pool therapy. I did quite well, thank you. In fact, it was the first session where I went into the pool with a pain level of only 5 or 6 (out of 10). I got out with a pain level of an 8, but I was still pretty stoked about starting so low.

At some point, I noticed a gray hair on my 12-year-old son’s head. That’s just so wrong. I’m sure I helped put it there. Oh, and did I mention he told me the other day that he has THREE girlfriends? Yes. I think, for the most part, it’s all “she likes me and I like her” stuff, for which I’m grateful. Although, one of the girls got jealous because he got a hug from another one. Oy vey. It’s starting. I may need to move away to convent while he goes through puberty.

After pool therapy, Little Dude and I headed home. The rain held off for the most part. (Yes, we had rain today!) Lunch done, LD took some photos of my eyes as part of a lesson on shooting more than Legos. Then I set up the tripod, the camera with the macro lens, and he went about photographing his toys. I have yet to thoroughly review those shots, but I’m sure they’re good. He is a patient boy.

My fatigue has been something of a non-issue, but it’s there. However, it was just more fun to watch my boy have a little fun. Tomorrow, we’re going down to the Harp Fest. Sunday, it’ll be all Easter fun all day long. Or something like that.

“But, what about today?” you ask.

Oh, yeah. That. I got some weird zombie chicken award thing handed to me on a Corelle Ware platter. Pam’s weird. I like that. It’s one of my favorite qualities in a friend. But an award? For what? I’m not entirely sure. It’s thrown me for a loop in a big way. I’ve spent hours wondering what to do about it. All I know is this:

The rules of the zombie chicken say… “The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all…”

I doubt I regularly produce content so remarkable that my readers would brave even a tipsy gnat to read it. I mean, let’s be real here. I mostly post photos anymore because my brain is little more than green mushy ooze (to which LD said “ewww”). I certainly don’t get 90+ comments like Kaknockers every time I open my piehole (making HER victim #1). I’d love to have that happen once. Just once. I’d be thrilled! And then I’d have to be revived.

I don’t even get as many comments as a certain San Diego Momma when she has a bad hair day. Of course, she’s younger and cuter than I am.

Then there’s Chris, who reminded me of the reason one should often wait before sending an email. Seriously, I do need to learn to just shut up sometimes. And when it comes to something health-related, my big fat mouth runneth over repeatedly. I hope Chris forgives me.

Cheri deserves a little chicken, I think. Yeah, it’s her turn. Especially the fried kind because she claims her ass is big and it’s not. I’m the queen of ample assage, so I should know.

Jan gets the chicken simply because putting up with me for five days wasn’t enough torture.

Finally, Kimberley is recovering from surgery and really needs something to do. So, Kimberley, here ya go! Besides, it’ll keep you from moving rocks and chasing dogs for a good five and a half minutes.

May you all go forth and fling chicken far and wide about the blogosphere. (I say this as the rain begins to pour earnestly again, thereby increasing the likelihood of a poor turnout at the Harp Fest. I wanted SUNSHINE, thankyouverymuch. It’s what I ordered.)

* Nowhere near as poetic as title

had that PROMPTuesday dealio with the whole six-word biography terror going on this week. And it just dawned on me what my real bio should say. Of course, I had to steal it from Otis over at RER, but who’s really original anymore? So I paraphrase:

If I do, I’ll never stop.

That about sums up my entire existence. If I embark on any journey, I tend to follow that path until I run out of road, blow the engine, or am chased off by a rabid bear. That’s just how I am. I pursue things with a passion that is very likely unhealthy after a certain point. I tend to be loyal and patient to a fault. I will worry a problem until it leaves someone (usually me) with a bloody stump.

And yet, there are just some things I don’t do. I know better than to try various things because I know how I am. I rarely drink. Not because I’m afraid I’ll become an alcoholic, but because it’s just too easy to let alcohol be the salve for whatever ails me or to rely on it for a good time. Same with drugs. Oh, for sure, I’ve dabbled, but those days are long behind me and it’s simply not something that I’d recommend for anyone, let alone a mother, a (former) nurse, or anyone who wants to succeed in life. Of course, there’s also the fact that I have plenty of meds to take these days and, even then, I’m reluctant to take those unless I have to.

I’d make a terrible junkie.

Unless it’s a life/goal junkie. I’m sort of stuck there. And that’s why I’m amending my damn biography.

I’m also stopping here, because if I let this go any longer, I’ll never stop.

Entry for Photograph 45 – Floral

Opuntia basilaris — contains mescaline. But neither Jan nor I tried it. And credit where credit is due: the first shot was inspired by Jan.

One of several little flowers in various stages of the life cycle found in Death Valley’s Mosaic Canyon.

No, I didn’t go all Helen Reddy and sing him “Candle on the Water”. I liked this dragon and wanted him to stick around. Get it? Stick around?

Sometimes I think Debbie just wants to torture me. Other times, she’s totally in synch with me. Then she comes back to dig that knife in right where it’ll do the most damage.

words. I have to come up with a six-word life description. How the heck is that even possible? I’m wordy. I write long, rambling bits of fluff that add up to absolutely nothing. Concise? Not me. When I come anywhere near needing to be precise and exact, I become some bumbling, fumbling, hemming and hawing joke. I stumble. I stutter. I sputter. And I invariably end up shrugging because words actually fail to form in a meaningful way. But that’s another story. One that’s better left untold, I think. There’s one person who knows exactly what that means; thankfully that’s a secret just between us.

Anyhow, back to my life in six words. Hmmm.

She was always trying and waiting.

No. That sort of sucks.

She meant well and sometimes succeeded.

Kinda lame there, too.

She always wanted what she wanted.

At least that’s honest. Not entirely a full description though.

Earnest and hopeful, loving and kind.

Good Lord, that sounds like something you’d write in a scrapbook. For an aging (and dying) aunt.

She thought she’d done her best.

Sort of makes you believe she really didn’t.

She wanted her happily-ever-after.

Hmm, perhaps those hyphens count as one word. Yes, I could play with that.

All she wanted was her happily-ever-after.

Still doesn’t sound like it ended well.

She knew her heart was true.

It has potential.

Always remember: cheesecake doesn’t keep well.

And there you have it. Eat your dessert first. Life’s fleeting. Two for the price of one there, folks. I’m quite the value, aren’t I? Ooh! Three! This was easier than I thought. Four! (This was harder than I thought. Which makes number five.) Thank God they’re grading on a curve. They are, aren’t they? Maybe I am trying too hard. And there’s a sixth. And this is where I stop trying.

Now it’s your turn. Play along in the comments, in Deb’s comments, or on your own blog. Just make sure you leave a comment so I can read what you wrote.

Early Friday morning, the skies were relatively clear.

On the way to Death Valley, we stopped at Rhyolite, where I encountered my first ghost. (Image below NFS)

When we pulled into the parking area, I saw another photographer there. It wasn’t until I saw him up close that I realized he reminded me of Rob. Even eerier was this message I found on the back of a truck.

Guess everyone needs reminders of people they love. Even when they’ve been gone for a long while and you’re thousands of miles from where you’d expect to find them.

More photos coming soon.