Da Goddess

Christ is risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!

He is risen!

…The feast of the Resurrection of the Lord. is a transliteration of the Greek word, which is itself a transliteration of the Hebrew pesach, both words meaning Passover. (A minority of English-speaking Orthodox prefer the English word ‘Pasch.’)

Pascha normally falls either one or five weeks later than the feast as observed by Christians who follow the Gregorian calendar. However, occasionally the two observances coincide, and on occasion they can be four weeks apart. The reason for the difference is that, though the two calendars use the same underlying formula to determine the festival, they compute from different starting points. The older Julian calendar’s solar calendar is 13 days behind the Gregorian’s and its lunar calendar is four to five days behind the Gregorian’s.

One steadfast rule I have is this: No matter how bad you feel, if you listen to music, you can get through anything. So, it was a bit of a surprise to me when I contemplated not going to the Bernie Pearl show last night. My stomach was unsettled, my head was, too. But I made myself keep on driving. I was already halfway there.

I’m so glad I went. Within seconds of hearing the first notes, I was caught up in the music, lost in the beauty. All troubles gone. All that was left was pure happiness.

After a brief break, Bernie took the stage again and played his version of “I’ll Fly Away”. It was so moving. I almost burst into tears. Thankfully my camera saved me from that.

If you live in San Diego, you can see Pearl (and many other artists) on May 3, 2009 at Old Time Music at a benefit performance. I highly recommend attending. If you live in Los Angeles, good news for you! Bernie lives up that way and you can see him just at one of his many gigs in the area.

Photo notes: Shot with available light at ISO 800, 1/50 sec shutter, f/5.6. Underexposed by a bunch, and yet, the images turned out perfectly. I had a feeling and I went with it. I’m glad I did. Reasoning: What I really wanted was to capture the light on the faces and hands. I didn’t want to expose for the dark background at all. So, for those of you curious about what I did to get these shots, there you go. My secrets have been revealed.

Sometimes that’s just where you have to go when it comes to friendship. Noam learned that the hard way after Don requested a small favor.

Five years ago, and some change, I was declared the of There*.

Lately I’ve had the chance to do some navel gazing and I have to admit that the description is apt.

I’ve learned, the hard way of course, that I don’t want to be Here, I want to be There. I always want to be There. Most of us want to be There. As if there’s something inherently wrong with where we actually are.

I think it’s easy to lose sight of the journey, the process, the experience of it all. Sure, who doesn’t want to fast forward through the scary or the gory parts? Who doesn’t want to avoid the difficult patches? But in order to get There you have to start from Here. And sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you discover There is a lot closer than you thought; it turns out you were looking at the map upside down!

I know I’m not There yet, but I have to remember that the journey will take as long as it takes. There’s no fast forward button on life. There’s no way to skip chapters. And there just isn’t any way to avoid some of the pitfalls. In other words, I better embrace the Grace within and have a little Faith — not just in God, but in myself and in other people. I’ll get There when I get There. No amount of running, stumbling, or thumbin’ a ride is going to get me There any sooner.

* Okay, that There was different than the There here, but still…

No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. That really is a miner with a penguin. According to several sources, the penguin represents the artist and his sense of displacement in the desert. Why it’s there with Shorty Harris (the miner), I’m still not entirely certain. Of course, there’s story that says when Shorty got drunk (as he often did), he’d see penguins instead of elephants. I don’t know which story is true, nor does it matter. What I do like is the whimsy of the miner’s flightless little companion. I think everyone should have a whimsical companion, even if it’s an imaginary one.

Also of note: based on the description of Harris in various sources, he sounded much like Rob (I only wish he’d lived as long as Shorty), which is even more amusing when you consider my otherworldly experience across the road from this statue.

That’s Little Dude’s answer to the Harper’s Island commercials and that “one by one” sound byte we hear every two seconds. In order to hear how we say it, simply clench your teeth, pretend you’re being strangled, and then say “one by one”. Yep. Until this week. LD’s taken to saying “81 by 96” whenever the commercial gets to that point.

We’re obviously NOT watching the mini-series or “TV event” or whatever you want to call it.

Yeah. So, I woke up this morning feeling very out of sorts. My heart was thundering in my chest. I felt major unease. I couldn’t put my finger on what was really wrong and I still can’t.

Money? Oh yeah. Hell yeah! That’s a huge issue at the moment.

Physical recovery? Yeah, that’s part of it. I’m feeling pretty good these days, but I know once I start physical therapy there will be a lot of new challenges and that’s coming up pretty soon. Until I finish with that, I’m not officially cleared to go back to work. Not that I have a regular job lined up anymore. (Let’s add that one to the list.)

Taking care of the kid adequately? It weighs heavily on me.

My folks? Oh yeah. I don’t know what’s going to happen with them. Things have been not going well with them. It worries me deeply. It seems like they’ve both suddenly aged a great deal and last night, one of my dad’s friends asked me what was going on with him. It’s becoming apparent to others now, too. As this lady said, “he just looks like he’s fading away.” Yep. She even mentioned that he didn’t look so steady sometimes. I thought it was just me who noticed it, but it’s not. My mom, well, that’s been much more obvious. It breaks my heart.

There are other things, of course. There always are.

In the back of my mind all day, I kept hearing Bob Seger, “Woke last night to the sound of thunder, how far off, I sat and wondered…” Except I knew the thunder was coming from within. What I don’t know is what it means or when the internal storm will hit the hardest, where or how.

Color me perplexed and uneasy.

While Jan and I were photographing all the many wonderful sights at Rhyolite, one of my favorite finds was this caboose, with the final shot of the group being my favorite shot of the series.

I spend precious little time on Facebook. I really signed up because a dear friend of mine who moved away signed up and it was the only way to keep up with all the exciting changes in said friend’s life (email, apparently, was not an option — not sure why).

Getting back to my point (yes, there is one!), I just got this note posted on my wall:

Hey! I saw YOUR NAME in BIG type (none of that 8 pt hidden in the corner) on a poster for the TOMCAT COURTNEY show at Rhythm Room on Friday May 1st. “PHOTO BY DA GODDESS” and in caps like this

My feeble response?

No way! Are you serious? Are you going to steal that poster for me? Please! Pretty please! I’ll be your bestest friend EVER! Woo hoo!

I’m not too excited am I?

And this is why you don’t see me post about what happens on Facebook. I also don’t post what happens on Twitter because I’m not a tweeter. I refuse. Yep, I refuse to cave in and micro blog. If I want to do that, I can do it here. I’m just that special.

Anyhow, that lame response? It’s why I never tell you about what’s going on over on Facebook. I sound like a 12 year-old (and a slow one at that) who lacks maturity.

The good news, in case you missed it in all my adolescent blubbering: one of my photos is now a promotional poster in a very cool club. I feel all schoolgirlish and fluttery.

Oh, and the other good news? I’m assisting on two, maybe three, shoots this weekend. Yay!

In other other good news, my big shoot next Friday night looks to be very interesting. It turns out my interaction with the gal who’s coordinating everything has paid off in that I’ve targeted the act I most want to shoot and AND(!) since I have so much concert experience, I’m sort of going to be calling the shots on stage stuff. I’ve given her a list of things to ask the event planners and access we really need to have. Who’da thunk all my crazy time spent in dark clubs would come in so handy?

Does all this sound too braggy or is this okay? I mean, I’m kinda excited. If by “kinda”, I mean TOTALLY. Is it okay or should I take it down a notch or seven?

The only bad news about all of this is that two of the three gigs are paid, with the longest event requiring the most work not being paid, but resulting in some major exposure. And as we saw in the first blockquote, exposure ain’t too shabby.

From appearing on any so-called reality television shows.

Yes, I’m empirically forbidding each of you from ever appearing on a reality TV program. Why? Because I’m a mean mommy. But really, it’s because I want to spare you — and by that, I mean spare ME — the embarrassment of looking like 1) a total fool, 2) a total ass, 3) a totally foolish ass, and/or 4) being so digitally manipulated that you no longer resemble yourself.

What? Huh? Look at this ad for the insipid new show The Cougar. Anyone watching TVLand has seen the ridiculous commercials for this insipid show and knows this is NOT what that woman actually looks like. Even worse, the premise, while one would think it’s all light-hearted, is ludicrous. Yes, single women over 40 ARE dating younger men, but the ones they’ve picked for this show? Puhleeze! If Miss Thang is desperate enough to go swimming around in that testosterone-filled pool, she needs psychological help, not dating assistance.

I have nothing against most reality-based TV programming except when it ends up on TVLand or is at least a bit more honest. I go to TVLand to escape the idiocy that is “reality” programming. I stopped watching The Bachelor, Big Brother, and most other such shows because they weren’t about real people interacting. They became all about who could be the most outrageous and get the most press. TVLand was my refuge from this crap. But now, look at that photo! It’s as fake as the damn show itself. (Or as fake as I hope the show is, because the vast majority of single 40+ women would NEVER put themselves on TV or want to appear to come across in that particular manner.)

High School Reunion was just as bad. Look, my 25 year reunion is coming up this summer and none of us will be creating near the drama that went on with that show. That sort of thing didn’t even happen at my 10 year reunion. Do people really want to come across like their growth was stunted and they’ve never managed to get past high school? Do they? They must. Or they must have a very low level of shame. Or they need the money terribly.

You know, even though I could totally use the money, you’d never catch me on one of these shows. You know what show I would do? If VH1 brought back The Shot I’d totally do that. I would also gladly appear on What Not To Wear. In fact, that would be my first choice. Of course, I wouldn’t be one of Stacy and Clinton’s bitchy and bratty guests, but I would be a little sassy. I’d also love to do a show like the Amazing Race. Without the running, though. I don’t run. I don’t need the black eyes (you have noticed the rack, right?).

I would never do a show where you were made to look like a horny, shameless, stupid, foolish, ridiculous, desperate person. I would never do a show where you end up feeling like you need a shower afterward. I’d never do a show that would embarrass my kids.

Of course, if you’re the producer of such a show and you’re willing to make me a generous offer, I might reconsider.

You watched, right? C’mon! You promised!

Okay, so the baby was crying and little Johnny had a fever. I’ve been there. I’ll give you a pass this time.

Here’s what you missed (and by no means do I really think I’ll be doing this every week, so get it while the getting’s good):

Capt. Keith on the Wizard dodged the cancer bullet. Mild epithelial dysplasia. I could offer you a long explanation about what this is, but let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? These are not changes you see in a healthy mouth for the most part. Smokers, tobacco chewers, and those who drink heavily are more prone to having lesions appear. While they may not start off cancerous, you simply can’t keep up the same lifestyle without risking your health. As Keith told his wife, he’ll need to make some changes. No more chewing tobacco. Keith also had news on his finances. It was a rough year and there’s no way to maintain a healthy boat without pouring money into it. It’s not great starting the season out with a zero balance, but what’re you gonna do? His first pot yielded poor returns, but with good reason. There’s sharp metal cutting the lines while the pots are being hauled on board. Not good. Not good at all.

Capt. Phil on the Cornelia Marie didn’t fare so well. Doctors said he wasn’t well enough yet to take the captain’s wheel. YET. Just remember that. Things can change quickly if you follow anticoagulant therapy to the T. Murray was given the job of captaining the C.M. again. The Harris boys were sad, but they understood. Phil needs to get healthy and return to his rightful place. No worries. Murray Gamrath will do a good job and give Phil that time he needs.

Capt. Sig had to bite the head off a herring after losing the straw poll. Unlike Edgar, Sig spit the head out. Or maybe they’ve just never shown Edgar spitting the fish head out. Either way, it’s my least favorite part of the start of crab season. Looks like the Northwestern isn’t going to get oodles of screen time this episode and that’s okay. We’ll have plenty of Sig in the months to come. We always do.

Capt. Johnathan on the Time Bandit started off this season with a bang. Literally. He dumped fireworks into a barrell where the captains had gathered to tell stories pre-sail. He then dumped cold, cold water on a deckhand. There are hints of personnel changes coming. I’ve already heard about it and to see it being played out on the screen is rather uncomfortable. Ah, well, that’s all part of the show, right?

Bets were made prior to the boats heading out for their first strings of pots. Winner of the Captains’ Wager will get a cool $4000 (according to Mike Rowe) or something like that. You know the winner will give the money to the fishermen’s fund as they always do, which is probably one of the reasons I like this bunch so much.

At one point, cameras cut to Phil standing onshore, noting the morning sky was red. Not the sort of thing a seafaring man wants to see. Keith isn’t liking it either. Sure enough, that red sky leads to more problems for the skipper of the Wizard. He’d decided to make a dive under the boat (in cold five foot swells) to check out the situation and while under the boat, takes a mean slam to the head.

We’re left wondering what will happen.

And with that, it was time to say goodbye to our skippers and their crews for the week.

Next week can’t come too soon around these parts.

I was fully hoping I’d find a way to get my buns up to Seattle for CatchCon, but it’s just not happening this year. Yep, I’ve thrown in the towel and am no longer looking to go. Winning the passes was great, but I have to take care of business here at home. Since I made that decision, I’ve booked two shoots. Will either bring in money? Not enough to pay the bills, but it’s work. Will I be sorry I’m missing out on CatchCon? Hell yeah! All I can say is this: if any of the skippers and/or crew end up down in San Diego, they should let me know. I happen to have two local papers awaiting photos and interviews. (How’s that for working every angle?)

At 9pm, I want you all to go to your televisions and turn on the Discovery Channel (unless it’s on at 8pm for you Mountain folks). Watch the Season 5 premiere of Deadliest Catch and then come discuss it here. Or live blog it. Whichever. Just go do it! You won’t be disappointed. It’s one of the best shows on TV.

Then set a reminder for every Tuesday night at the same time. Let’s make a new habit of it, shall we?

Also, make a note on your calendars that next Tuesday, some of the captains and crew from Deadliest Catch be appearing on Cash Cab (another guilty pleasure).

This one should be a hoot! The ‘Cash Cab’ episode with the ‘Deadliest Catch’ skippers is slated to air on April 21st at 6:30 pm eastern. Not too many details are available however, we should be seeing the Hansens of the Northwestern up against Andy Hillstrand of the Time Bandit and Josh Harris of the Cornelia Marie. We’ll see which group of fishermen can ‘reel in’ the most correct answers!

There. I’ve made it very easy for you newcomers to get up to speed. I’ll see you around these parts later.

I know! They just keep coming. I did warn you, though. I told you I took 1800 photos (my brother-in-law laughed at me, saying he took 1800 photos each day over the last several days). So, photos from the trip WILL keep coming. The only way to stop them is to send me to on the 25th. Of course, that would mean lots of photos of a different kind, but at least they’d be different, right? Until then, Death Valley photos will continue. (I can be bought — pay me to stop phlogging and I will cease and desist.)

We’d stopped in the middle of a sand storm to try to get a look at the Devil’s Cornfield. While the clumps didn’t look much like corn anything to us, we later laughed even harder at the Furnace Creek Cafe’s map which made them look more like pineapples. All I could think of was Shawn Spencer of Psych and his love for pineapples (which, incidentally, is a love I share).

Or the end of the beginning. Either way, week’s PROMPT is a doozy!

The only direction we’ve been given is as follows:

She lifted the smudged glass to her lips, stopped mid-raise with that familiar lopsided smile and whispered, “This is the last you’ll see of me.”

And now, because I happen to have some crazy wild imagination, here is my take on that fun start.

—–

She lifted the smudged glass to her lips, stopped mid-raise with that familiar lopsided smile and whispered, “This is the last you’ll see of me.”

He looked at her, not believing a single word she said. He thought that smile was a little too playful, a little too sexy. So he leaned over to give her a kiss, stopping just short of her mouth when he saw the look in her eye. Nothing in her eyes said playful or sexy and, suddenly, he felt the icy fingers of panic rise within him.

“You don’t mean that, Jen,” he said. “I know you love me. I know you do. Why else would you keep coming back here? I know you love me. I KNOW it! It’s written all over every look you’ve ever given me. The way you touch me. The way…”

“Barry, it’s not as simple as all that. It’s about so much more than love,” she said. “I do love you. There’s absolutely no question about that. The thing is, I’m always… It’s never… There’s more to it than love. That’s all.” She shook her head and turned away. She couldn’t look at him any longer or she’d lose her resolve.

“Babe, please…don’t be like this. I want you to be happy and I don’t think this is going to make you happy,” he tried.

Just then, she felt the tears well up and she cursed him silently for knowing this most definitely wasn’t making her happy. Jen turned away and pretended to be looking for something in her purse. She knew he was watching. Damn him!

Finally, she turned back, not caring if he saw her crying. “It may not be making me happy, but it’s better this way. I just don’t see how this could turn out any other way. I’ve been waiting…I’ve been…waiting…for a couple years for some indication that you…that I…that…we were making some sort of progress. That we were going to move forward somehow. Instead, all I see is us in this holding pattern. Nothing’s changed. Oh, sure. Yeah, we’ve made individual personal gains and all, but us? Together? Nothing’s changed. And the longer this goes on, the harder it’s going to be for us to break this pattern. I do love you, but I can’t keep doing this.”

With that, she got up, grabbed her coat and purse, and ran out, hoping desperately that he’d come for her…that he’d let her go…that…oh, she didn’t know what she hoped. Well, beyond a cab showing up, that is. What she didn’t know, what she couldn’t know, was that Barry was standing not far behind her, in the shadows, watching. And whispering, “This is not the last you’ll see of me.”

For Easter, we were once again joined by my daughter’s best friend and her grandparents, as well as another one of my daughter’s friends. The three girls were fun to watch as they went about their girly business of “being”, and they were also a delight when they chose to sit outdoors for dinner. They graciously included Little Dude. Mojo tried (temporarily) to get LD to be the gopher, but that ended quickly (even though he’d have done it). Later, the girls sat down to play Scrabble with him.

I did take photos yesterday, but just a few. And none were the sort I’d share here (they were fine, but there weren’t many and they were mostly of the girls working on their own shoot). However, I went through some of the photos I took last year. I found this one of Miss V and Mojo and I thought it was especially sweet that they’re still best friends a year later. (Teenage girls don’t always have that sort of loyalty.)

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