Da Goddess

Time to head back to Death Valley and share some previously unseen photos. This time, we head out to Badwater Basin, the lowest point in Death Valley.

Just assume that I arrived sober and to dance.

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I loved the CD that song is from. It was one of my earlier CD purchases, too.

I’ll go sit quietly in the corner while you ponder why you even still speak to me.

Would this have been a better choice?

I know, I know. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Baffling, isn’t it?

Each year that passes leaves us with fewer and fewer of our World War II veterans, but they’re still here. As I make my way through San Diego, I encounter men and women alike who either served or who were dependants of those who did. They are an important part of our community and our history. If you get the chance, take the time to sit and talk with them. I can guarantee you’ll learn something new, something not found in a history book or on Wikipedia. We owe them so much. We owe them everything.

For more on D-Day in general, I point you again to Untold Stories of D-Day for a bit of perspective. Also check out Military History Online.

As always, my advice to you is to embrace our veterans. Learn from them, just as Little Dude and I have.

I leave you with a bit of conversation we had with one Ranger’s thoughts about what he experienced on D-Day:

He was young “and more than a little naive” he said. But he was brave and “scrappy enough” to have made it through training and to have survived enemy fire. Too many of his friends didn’t survive. It was a heartache he carried with him always. “You don’t know how it’ll feel until it happens. You don’t know the meaning of true friendship until it’s ripped from your hands.” We asked if he regretted his military service. “Hell, no! It was right. It was necessary. Not a goddamned person with a lick of common sense would tell you otherwise. I went into the military a boy, wet behind the ears. I came out a man. It was the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. I wish I could unsee what I saw, but I can’t. All I could do is learn to live with the ghosts and know we did what we did for the greater good. Every young man should spend time in the military and learn a thing or two. I wouldn’t wish them to see what I did, but I think they should all learn what I learned.”

It’s all too easy to dismiss what we don’t know, what we can’t know, what we’ve never experienced. Don’t take the “easy road”. Take time to listen instead. We won’t have opportunities like this for much longer. And it’s better to hear it from one who has been there than to read with detachment from some book.

More of my favorite “common” flowers

One of my favorite versions of song, aside from the original singer/songwriter. Not saying who or what song here…I want you to be pleasantly surprised. I think it’s the perfect way to start a weekend.

Gearing up for a busy weekend that will be followed by a busy week. Little Dude gets out of school next Thursday and I can’t wait! This summer’s schedule is already jam packed with events — some just for me, some for him, some as family time. I don’t know how we’re going to do everything we want to do in such a short time. Whatever happened to having three months off from school?

Anyhow, I hope you’re all having a good day.

I love the African Iris’ beautiful combination of white, purple, yellow, and long green stems and leaves. I’m so lucky there are lots to be found here in Southern California.

Anyone have a clue what this is? Bueller?

Ever wanted to get a collection of blues tunes that rock, I mean, really rock, so that you had a little pick-me-up to get you through the day? Got the perfect solution for you.

for 14 ass kickin’ tunes that’ll make your day rock ‘n’ roll from start to finish!

You know me, I don’t pimp product here for cash, so this music must be something special. It is. Two songs from my favorite heavy blues purveyor (The Stoney Curtis Band!) are included here. Not only that, but Vdelli’s in the house. And then there’s the Alex Dixon Band. Alex Dixon, for those of you who know a little blues history, is the grandson of Willie Dixon and Willie’s a family favorite. Alex continues a great tradition.

Blues artists don’t have many ways to get their songs out to the people, so it falls largely on the Internet stations to get the music played. All the artists on this CD have given their authorization to be included on this compilation. It’s good exposure for them, good for the station (bellyup4blues.com), and it’s good for you!

For $10.99, don’t you want to check it out?

What? You need a bit of a teaser to get you to commit? Fine.

Enjoy: “My Suspicious Mind” by the Alex Dixon Band.

Rock your soul to a happier place, people! It’s good for you. Better than vegetables!

Here I am, 43, lived most of my life in Southern California, and never been to Times. There seemed to be something wrong with that picture. And then, while out at dinner for my birthday, our dear friends brought up the idea that perhaps it was high time I went. So the wheels of adventure were set in motion. Before I knew it, they’d arrived on Saturday morning to dispatch us without haste from Poway to Buena Park. Okay, so we stopped in Anaheim first for Muzeo, which was rather impressive itself.

But back to Medieval Times. Having no clue as to how it all worked or exactly what it would be like, I found myself a wee bit overly excited about the whole thing. I couldn’t wait! I kept looking around every corner, hoping to spy the castle. And then suddenly, there it was. We saw out behind the castle a man working one of the horses. That was enough to elicit a “squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” of delight from me. Then we turned into the parking lot and my heart began to jump and kick and off it went into full gallop. Of course that meant I was going to need to run to the bathroom at the first opportunity, but whatever. I was here. LD was here. Our friends were here! They’d made this all possible for us.

The line to get in went rather quickly and we were greeted by appropriately garbed people every step of the way…except one…I don’t know what her deal was, other than quickly forgotten. We were funneled into a line where we were given our crowns representing our allegiance to the Red & Yellow Knight, aka Lord del Font! Surely they knew I have a file on my computer called “Fontastic!” and assigned me to the realm of beautifully created letters and wingdings. Our knight’s description only confused me:

Personal champion to the Count of Perelada, the sword of this invincible soldier has raised him to fame! Defeat and regret have been the reward of the countless challengers who have offered their honor and their shield to the point of his lance.

There was nothing about creative letter making anywhere in there! Oh, what’s a distressed maiden to do? Shall I break into song? (cue music) Heeeeeeeee….AIKRZXZYZWWQT WTRXVCHQ(/music) Apparently I’m not allowed to sing in this production. Bastards. Still, I awaited the arrival of what would surely be our most handsome and brave knight. I do feel a bit foolish over the slight drooling over the first few knights who arrived. Handsome and hale they were! But how could they possibly compare to the hero we were about to meet. Out he came, riding surely and steadily on his amazing steed! And as he turned his fair face towards us (first photo), a gasp was heard from all, “It’s Him! Yes, yes! It certainly is! Oooh! He’s pretty! Strong face. Look at those strong thighs, too! My, isn’t he everything you could want in a knight and out of his armour?” Even the women amongst us agreed.

Lord Chancellor wasn’t so bad himself. Hubba hubba and all that.

The next visceral reaction came about with the Green Knight appeared. “Don Temple, the warrior of Asturius, an unquestioned master of weapons who has never been unhorsed in the joust. No mantle of peace or of serenity will ever grace his shoulders, for his temper is the Dragon’s Claw.” I immediately focused on him, forgetting to take photographs as I simply stared and occasionally wiped the drool from my chin.

Those damn bad boys of the bald variety! They distract me every time. Have no fear, m’ladies and gentlemen, for I managed to withdraw myself from the reveries just in the nick of time. I, instead, turned my attentions to the very bad acting of the princess and found myself wishing she’d been the one kidnapped instead of the prince.

I had little time to wish upon a star because the fighting in the arena before us became a magnificent frenzy of choreographic excellence…with real weapons. The sparks flying off the weapons were unbelievable, but very real. In the end, someone had to win out and it was, as it always is, good that defeated evil.

Our food, having been eaten by specially trained mice, was apparently quite good. I do recall the chicken being wonderful and the tomato bisque as inoffensive fare. The apple turnover was good, as was the piece of birthday cake we received.

Both LD and I had our names read by the Lord Chancellor’s deep and enchanting voice.

…. crickets ….

Oh, I’m supposed to wrap this up! Okay. um, sorry. My enchantment lasted longer than expected.

LD has since given up the desire to become a fighter pilot in exchange for a shot at working at Medieval Times. He has his eyes on the prize, too.

So here’s the deal. Medieval Times is a fantastic theatrical dining experience that you won’t soon forget. You are herded a bit like cattle from section to section, but it’s done rather efficiently and the only thing I’d have changed was allowing the parties to decide who they would like to be photographed with. I wanted the guy admitting us to the photo room. Forget the king! Forget the princess! I wanted the bouncer in my photo.

There weren’t enough bathrooms either, I don’t believe. I only saw two. If there were more, they were well hidden. For 1100+ patrons, you need more than two sets of facilities.

Overall a great experience and I think if I go again, I’m going with someone who doesn’t like garlic bread so I can have their piece (it goes so quickly!) as well as someone who doesn’t like their pastry (it was good).

Big, great, HUGE thanks go out to C&R for the day. It’s not one we’ll soon forget.

and Ethel. That was us. We took turns concocting hairbrained schemes so our roles were interchangeable. The important thing was that we were in it together and if there was trouble coming, we’d each accept punishment as if we were the full-fledged ringleader, regardless. None of that turning on one another crap. That didn’t come until later.

It was the sort of friendship that tends to have an expiration date. You can’t expect to make it through childhood and into adulthood with a friend like that. Not when your world quickly expands and other influences take over.

We’ll call her Cindy. Yes, that’s a good name for her. Cindy and I met in 4th grade. I was brand new at school and she was quick to befriend me. Thank goodness for her. I was awkward and “advanced” for my age. You know, at that point I was already wearing a real bra. She wasn’t far behind. Was that part of our friendship attraction? Perhaps. It did make life a lot easier when you knew you weren’t the only girl sprouting real womanly features. Maybe it was the fact that she was the pretty, popular girl who saw me, the fat girl, as the perfect foil. I don’t think that was a conscious decision, but I do think it played a part. Whatever it was that drew us together, together we were. We were instant best friends and that was that.

Our parents endured weekends of endless giggling, odd hairdos, insane makeup sessions, and whispers late into the wee hours. They didn’t know (or turned a blind eye) to our sneaking the occasional cigarettes, or when we were “watering the neighbor’s plants” for hours at a time (read: we found a stack of Penthouse and Hustler magazines and were fascinated!), or even when we’d found a way to sneak out during our trip to Sacramento and San Francisco to meet the boys. (What were those chaperones doing, I wonder…) We found plenty of “adventures” and had a good run there for a while.

We did the whole Girl Scout thing together. Softball. Transitioned to middle school. She had boyfriends, I did not. But she encouraged my dreams of boyfriends, often walking past that guy’s house with me just so I wouldn’t have to do it alone. It didn’t hurt that the guy Cindy liked lived nearby.

We weren’t always very nice, though. Occasionally the urge to do something to get back at someone overwhelmed us and we’d strike out. As a team. Always as a team. If we got caught, we’d each swear it was “solely my idea”, even though the adults knew it was a team effort. Invariably, we’d end up sitting across from each other, pretending it was the first time we’d ever met. “Who? Her? Never saw her before in my life. I did it. Pure and simple. It was me.” Was it really any surprise that it made the two of us look even more suspect?

One time, and I do report this with the appropriate amount of hindsight being 20-20 regret, we teamed up to take down our Girl Scout leader. We’ll call her GSL. GSL’s daughter was cool with us, but GSL herself was often drawn as Elmira Gulch in our book. So there we were in camp one Spring, preparing part of our evening meal a bit ahead of time. We overheard GSL talking with the assistant leader about how she hated pepper and the rule was to be “no pepper in any meal”. Cindy and I looked at each other and silently went about plotting our pepper additions to what we were putting together (the approved Girl Scout version of minestrone, which really meant thirty large cans of various types of soup). And thus we began sneaking a pinch in here or there. About a half hour later, GSL gathered all of us around the fire. “Because I am allergic to pepper, I want to remind each of you in charge of meals to avoid pepper at all cost. It should only be used on your own food when I am not around.” Despite the fact that nearly an entire pepper container ended up in our minestrone, she never knew the difference. GSL’s daughter later told us she had added more pepper to soup when no one was looking.

Yeah, one of the few moments we managed to get away with a dastardly deed was one of those times we should have been punished. What if she really had been allergic? Forget the fact that most of the soups we used had pepper in them, it was just two little girls being mean-spirited. And yet, nothing.

As I mentioned earlier, these types of friendships are generally stamped with an expiration date and ours lasted for about five years before we broke out of the BFF category. In 8th grade, we were assigned to a different school. While we both attended, our classes were different and we made new friends. There was a brief period when things got rather nasty — right about the time I lost weight and boys found me attractive. Somehow by the time 9th grade came around, we were back to being friends. Not best friends, but friends. Even still, time and life took us different directions.

Over the years, we’ve run into each other. Usually at reunions and such. We live within 10 minutes of one another but other than a few emails and a single pizza party after our last reunion, not a thing. Oh, wait…there was that time I saw her at the one middle school meeting (the school I didn’t want LD to attend), but I didn’t approach. With our big 25th reunion coming up, we’ll meet again, exchange pleasantries, and generally go about our lives. I’m okay with that. Our days of troublemaking and girlish fun are clearly meant to remain in the past. If, however, we do get the opportunity to spike someone’s soup, who knows? Maybe the girls we used to be will show up again somehow, somewhere.

And thus we conclude this week’s episode of why I should avoid Debbie’s PROMPTuesdays. I get lost in the mists of time and really, it’s just plain sad to make you sit through them, isn’t it?

I told the boys they could create some monsters as others had done.

Little did I know I was creating my own.

Honestly, I just can’t take them anywhere!

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