It's that time again, NOOOO, not that time, this isn't one of those kind of spaces....oh goodness, and not THAT time either, so would you please pull up your pants and for crap's sake put that thing away before you scare someone!  Sheesh! (but stay close..I might have a hankering for that later)

    So what time is it exactly you  inquire?  Well my darlings, it's time for me to leave the gate to my mental faculties unguarded so the thoughts can make a break for freedom.  Run evil plots, conspiracy theories and general nonsensicalness, run and be free.  Hopefully I'll have more room to form thoughts of a more coherent nature, as well as finishing the nearly complete second installment of "The Gathering",  with those pesky other thoughts out of the way. Now if you'll just don your protective head gear, and turn those condoms inside out so they are ribbed for YOUR pleasure, I'll go ahead and open the gate.  Here we go...

     First off, while I am enjoying the dizzying power Windows Live spaces has granted me over MY OWN space, I am NOT enjoying the media player being stuck with the current musical selection cruelly trapped inside it. I do like a little Nora Jones here and there, but seriously, over a week of not being able to change the song or even rip the current song out makes me want to hurl profanity like a...well, all right, I hurl my fare share of profanity already...so I guess that's neither here nor there.  Please Windows Live spaces...please fix that issue!!  Now now now!!!

     To continue with my discursiveness; while on my punishing new and improved morning march yesterday, ear buds nestled securely in my earholes, that Fergie song Glamorous cycled through, and just to clear up and confusion that ensued with that information, I HATE FERGIE, but the songs in the MP3 player were chosen for their ability to pace my walk...anyway-after struggling with the less than rational urge to strike Fergie repeatedly in the face with a bowling ball, I decided to use my powers for good instead of evil and I started thinking of words that also fit in where she spells the word glamorous.  That kept my evil genius criminal mind busy for approximately 3.7 minutes.  I decided that since I derived so much joy from re-writing the toxic bit of radio pollution that was My Humps (see lyrical genius category), I should re-write this song as well.  Add it to the list of things to add to the list as soon as I make a list, which I wrote on the place where my list would be if I made one, otherwise known as...fuck me running!  The only list I have is one of people to be punished later.  

     So just who is the ignoramus that keeps telling Fergie to spell in her songs?  I can just imagine the conversation:

Whore, umm, I mean Fergie: "I don't understand what all these letters are on the lyric sheet"

Ignoramus: "Just read them in time to the beat, and make sure that you show a lot of your bare torso and ass cheeks, people won't even notice that you have a head then and those who aren't hypnotized with your belly button jewelry will perceive you as more intelligent simply because you can spell a 9 letter word."

F:  *Holding up the fingers on one hand and looking on the back side for 4 more, debating whether or not to remove a shoe also* "Sure, ya, whatever, do you think I should use the restroom before going on stage, I mean I did just knock back a case of Cristal?  *giggling*" 

I:  "Well you're a grown up, it's not like you'll piss your pants on stage, right?"

   I'm going to give Ella a chance to stop laughing before I continue *tapping toe of stiletto heeled red pumps on cold tile*. 

    Now here's where it gets ugly, oh man, didn't I tell you to pull up your pants!  Come on people, you know the drill. Take a number and wait outside the bedroom door until I'm done typing...

    Who decided that skinny leg jeans were a good fashion item to resurrect?  What makes my mother-in-law call me for no discernible reason? Where does it say that putting a blonde streak in your nearly black hair is attractive? When will clothing manufacturers stop producing pleated front tapered leg pants, no one looks good in them!! No one!!  Why do politicians feel compelled to use such thought provoking statements as, "We are where we are" when talking about their views on, well, pretty much anything? Why do fat girls wear short tops and low rise pants, and why does anyone make low rise pants in a size 26 anyway?  And while we are on the subject, just because you can find short shorts in a size 28 doesn't mean that anyone should wear them.  Same goes for the size 4 women that confuse being thin with being fit, if you have cellulite from your navel to your knees, shorts aren't a good look for you. That is in direct violation of the porch theory.  You know, the one I have that clearly states: If it doesn't look good in the house, don't put it on the porch!!"  Visual pollution is a more serious threat to the planet than global warming. 

  Am I done yet? Let me check, hold on...bitch, moan, complain, bitch, snarl, curse,bitch, glare, ejaculate...Yes!! I'm done!!

   Whew!  I feel so much better!  Thank you, drive through------>

Raven

     This morning, armed with nothing but a pen and my green notebook, I set off for the beach, alone.  20 minutes after backing out of my driveway, here I am, no MP3 player or even a cell phone, just me.  I figure the world can get along without me for a few hours, and goddess knows I need a break.

     After laying out my towel I took off my watch, set the alarm for 2 hours and rolled over onto my belly to watch the ocean and attempt to unmuddle my muddled mind.  The sounds of the waves and an occasional seagull are the only audible noises, so my mission is half accomplished, I am alone.  As far as I can see in either direction there is no one.  This gets me wondering why I don't do this more often.  Make a note.

     A military helicopter is flying overhead right now, reminding me how close San Clemente is to Camp Pendleton, which in turn makes me smile remembering back some 16 years when I lived down here.  The days spent sitting on the beach when I had a day off or just a slow day at the salon and the nights spent at a local bar with an amazing DJ for hours of dancing and flirting shamelessly with all those young marines so far from home.  My girlfriend and I used to call that the "thick Marine layer". 

     San Clemente was a different place before the war.  You couldn't throw a stone in any direction without hitting a tell tale 0"-3" Marine Corps buzz cut.  It was kind of nice really and there was always plenty of "scenery".  That bar I used to dance the night away in has since become a Bar and Grille, adding the Grill[e] raised the prices and ousted the dancing.  The beach is usually empty save for the weekends and even then the swarms of cropped hair and pink torsos resulting from tender young skin's first time at the Pacific Ocean are a rare sight.

     Looking up I see a few people have straggled down to my little patch of heaven.  It's clear enough today to see all the way to Catalina Island (26 miles across the sea).  Even without the thick Marine layer the scenery isn't so bad.  I think I'll roll over now. Peace and love~

Raven

     In a park where you can rent giant 2 seater tricycles and bikes you can ride on the water, 4 generations of Filipinos gathered for my 7th annual Earth Day Extravaganza! 

     In this crazy world full of war and violence, drama and pettiness, a group that totaled 47 people including Great Grandparents, babies, boyfriends and even felons, most of whom share genetic markers,  managed to put them all aside and come together in what became our biggest turn out yet.  AND WE HAD A BLAST!! 

    We played softball, ate cookies shaped like peni, bounced in a bounce house, hula hooped, played football, rode bikes, ponies and trains, went to the zoo and brought some delicious food shared while creating even more delicious memories.  Even my 82 year old grandfather gave the hula hoop a spin and then took off on my 20 year old cousin's decked out beach cruiser.

    My sister had a bounce house delivered and age wasn't an issue in a family like mine, nope, at one point almost everyone had bounced in there, including the game of extreme dodgeball that was played.  My spouse and my brother in law, without even talking to each other first, ended up buying the same remote control planes and while flying them in the creek bed, my daughter spotted a baby diamond back rattler, which of course, I was radioed to come down and photograph (and bring a cold soda for the spouse too),

     As if this all wasn't enough in a park where alcohol is prohibited (I guess the park rangers didn't notice the people with just their asses sticking out of the coolers as we tried to covertly fill our cups with beer or wine coolers), My uncle came with his handy humidor full of cigars he is always willing to share.  See, sharing is nice!

     Our picnic site had almost a roar of laughter coming from it all day, the kind of laughter and frivolity that made strangers stop to see what we were doing and a brave few ask us why we were all there. "It's the Earth Day Extravaganza" we'd quip as we flitted from chair to chair embracing every person we passed on the way.      

   Most of this won't make any sense to you, but trust me, if we can all get along for almost 9 hours at the park, how hard is it for people to behave like intelligent humans in here?  Oh you are going to make me say it aren't you?  Gotta love when your own words come back to bite you on the ass, but here goes...

Why can't we all just get along?

Ok ok, before you start throwing things at me...I'll post a few photos, but many of them will remain forever hidden on my "other" space, the family friendly one, you know, to protect the innocent! 

     I regret to inform you that all regularly scheduled programming will be interrupted by the cooking and preparation for my fab Earth Day Extravaganza I am hostessing on Sunday. 

     Rest assured that I will finish Part 2 of The Gathering as well as photographing the "special" treats I am baking and the masses of people flocking to this event, but I will be away from my space until early next week. 

     In the meantime, here are some questions for you all.  Have fun!   Hope everyone has a great weekend!  Much love to you all~

Raven

1. What historical time period would you most like to visit?

2. If you could have any view from your front porch, what would it be?

3. If you could ask a psychic one question, what would you ask?

4. Is intelligence or common sense more important?

5. What would be the menu on your ultimate birthday dinner?   

     The note simply read, "I'll leave the door unlocked". Holding this crumpled piece of stationery in his hand he followed the map drawn on the back, finding himself in front of an old theater and discovering, much to his dismay, that he was not alone. A swift glance around revealed half a dozen men and about as many women, most of them looking rather confused. As they milled about in front of the building a spark of recognition flickered in some of their eyes and they began speak to each other in an attempt to gain a little information and more importantly, to quell their own nerves. From what they could ascertain each was left a note and, depending on their location, airline tickets. Each note was penned in the same artistic writing, each one was left on their computer, and all faintly smelled of chocolate. Some of the kindreds had not noticed this last detail and were now attempting to surreptitiously sniff their notes. In the midst of all this confusion the front doors had opened, unbeknownst to all. One of the gathered people took notice and surveyed the crowd to see if anyone was making a move to go inside. Finally, the last man to arrive took the first step towards the theater doors, not looking back to see if any followed. Admittedly, he was a little despondent that he wasn't the only one with this invitation as he was very fond of the woman who issued it and more possessive than he realized. Seeing him cross the threshold, the others began to filter in soon after.

     The lobby was empty save for a long table upon which boxes were neatly displayed. The boxes mirrored those gathered as they were of varying shapes and sizes and each contained something special.  Some of the boxes were lashed shut with leather strapping, some with satin ribbon, some with rough twine and others with velvet rope, each one had a small envelope with a handwritten name on the front.  A voice came over the sound system, "Please find your gifts but DO NOT OPEN THEM, you will be instructed when it is time". As they had outside, the group stood looking nervous, staring longingly at the table, each dying to see if there was a box with their name on it, but none wanting to appear too eager. This time a woman stepped forward first, but only moving a few feet before glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else followed. Sensing her hesitation, another person joined her, and soon the group, feeling safety in numbers, was all heading over to the table to look for their names. Once everyone had claimed their appropriate box the voice spoke again, "please enter the theater and find a seat". Someone stared up at the ceiling, as if trying to see who it was that addressed them. The crowd, now feeling a little more at ease, filed into the empty theater finding it illuminated only by candlelight and dimmed wall sconces.

     Walking cautiously in the dark, the people began to choose their seats. Peeking from behind the heavy purple drapes, the author of the notes watched, captivated by their process. The women tended to gather near each other, breaking into small groups before perching on the edges of their seats. The men, on the other hand, spread out a little more, communicating non-verbally and generally placing an empty seat between them, but still occupying the same row. When settled, they only used 2 rows total, the front row remaining inexplicably unfilled. Once seated, the men and women began to relax, probably aided by the dim lighting and freedom to slouch down in their seats if so inclined, but each still wondered about the contents of their box. The woman responsible for this gathering was still watching from behind the curtains, waiting for the group to settle in. When movement was replaced by hushed conversations, the mystery hostess began to check names off her list, smiling as she saw the familiar faces she had come to adore.  As she gave the list a final glance she noticed one name remained unchecked.  Drawing her brows together she simply shook her head in resignation, hoping that differences would be set aside in light of her still unwavering offer of friendship.  "Bahala na" she whispered to no one, not letting one person spoil this delicious evening she had so carefully planned.

     to be continued.....

     Can you please define pornography, obscenity, vulgarity, profanity, hatred, bigotry, racism, or gratuitous violence? Is there a universal standard by which we are all measured and better yet when did we elect a board of "Internet police" to patrol our spaces looking for violations through our written words, musical compositions or photographic journeys?  What are the qualifications of this moral majority who's raison d'etre is to investigate and define what is or is not in compliance with a code of conduct that, although it exists in a document that many have never bothered to read, most human beings violate at least a dozen times over the course of a day (and that's a very modest guess)?  Who are these people to tell us what we can or cannot say in this or any other forum?  The idea that a panel of judges combs through our spaces looking for a reason to wield their might rods and "shut us down" doesn't bode well with me at all.  What's next, each person being assigned a monitor to watch us as we go about our private lives, keeping us pure and ensuring that we do not offend anyone's delicate sensibilities by being free thinking individuals?  If something you watch, read or hear offends you then turn it off, close it or tune it out.  If you expect the world to change so that you don't have to read a story, or look at a photo that you deem offensive perhaps retreating to the safety of your underground bunker and recycled air would be a great idea?   

     If we were to follow the enforcers of the omni-present code of conduct around in their daily lives, do you think that we would find that not one of them ever engages or entertains anything remotely sexual in nature, which to some people afflicted with a strangulating clenching of their anal regions could be construed as pornographic? Do they never go to the beach or go dancing?  Have they never listened to professional sports or a cooking show from the other room? Do they sit in a hermetically sealed chamber 24 hours a day, not interacting with another human for fear that a word such as breast, balls or penetration might be used, thusly causing them to think impure thoughts?  Can anyone tell me how obscenity, vulgarity and profanity differ?  What may seem vulgar to one person might be completely reasonable to another.  What are the odds that if one of the enforcers were punched squarely in the face, profanity and hatred would not spill forth from their mouths?  In regards to bigotry and racism and taking into account that we are all part of the "world wide web", the task of answering the age old question, "why can't we all just get along?" seems a daunting one at the very least.  As much as I love to play my tambourine whilst dancing amongst the daisies, even I have days that I hate.  We are, after all, humans and with that comes beautiful flawed humanity.  We can't all be perfect all the time. 

     Are there acceptable levels of violence?  Would a mild to moderate expression of violence be all right?  What about cartoon violence?  When does run of the mill violence cross the line and become gratuitous?  How about International Fight League, or the firey crashes one might witness in a NASCAR race, is that violence plain and simple,or is it gratuituous? Do the enforcers, in addition to never uttering profanities, advocating pornography, engaging in any activity of any nature that might be defined as obscene, vulgar, hateful, bigoted or racist never watch television or movies?  What about watching the news or reading a newspaper?  If we, the members of the Windows Live Spaces community, , are advised to abide by the code of conduct to avoid the hand of big brother smacking us on the wrist or even shutting our spaces down when it has been deemed we are in violation, then perhaps every newspaper and news channel should be shut down as well.  Take a look at the world around you MSN, it's a big bad pornographic, obscene, vulgar,profane world full of gratuitous violence stemming from centuries of hatred, bigotry and racism don't add to it by stifling our freedom of expression.  That alone will perpetuate the cycle.  If I have offended you, you are free to close the window and never return.  

Let Freedom Ring!! 

     Waking up with a sore neck, initially injured last night in karate but compounded by an unexpected and uncomfortable visit from my mother yet again late last night, the exit from my pillow topped sanctuary was slow and reluctant.  As soon as I was vertical I added a headache to my growing list of complaints but managed to stretch with a minimal amount of grumbling.  The arrival of Spring means my plush black robe remains hanging on the back of my bathroom door as I fetch a sarong from the end of my bed, draw the soft fabric around my back and tie the fringed ends together over my bust.  Just as my hand reaches for the handle on my bedroom door I hear the kids giggling their way down the hallway on the way to the playroom, this makes me forget about my aches and pains for now.

     A chorus of voices greets me as I pass them on the way to the kitchen, "How was your sleep Mom?", "Mama can I have some chocolate milk, I'm not hungry yet though", Can I, can we, what, where, will....all become a soft buzzing noise as I fill the carafe to make some coffee.  Everyone's request will magically be met, but my verbal acknowledgement of each one isn't going to happen this morning, at least not until I have a cup of coffee.  Before I get the milk and chocolate syrup out of the refrigerator, two bodies appear in the kitchen to inventory their choices for breakfast.  After opening the pantry, fridge and freezer a decision has been reached.  "Mama...will you make us smoothies to drink while you make waffles?"  "Hand me the creamer baby" is my initial response, followed with "sure" to let them know I'm listening, even if my responses aren't entirely audible.

    Suffices to say that bellies were soon filled with homemade Belgian waffles, warm syrup and chocolate banana smoothies and then, just to keep the kids on their toes, I made the generous suggestion that they could play some X-Box before getting dressed this morning.  The look on their faces was priceless, but my offer wasn't entirely for them.   

    Coffee mug in hand, I slipped unnoticed out the kitchen slider into my backyard.  All three of my orange trees and my wisteria vine are in full bloom right now, the sweet fragrance enveloping me as I stepped outside. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with a heady commingling of orange blossoms and fresh juice as nibbled fragments of oranges hang from the very high branches, left behind by the nocturnal creatures that come to feed.  The dog came bounding over to nuzzle his cold nose against my bare leg as I set the mug on top of the turtle's enclosure and climbed atop the retaining wall to pick some oranges.  Scout stood at my side, as much to receive his own orange as to let anyone who might happen to be contemplating coming over the fence know that I'm under his protection.  Spying a nice assortment of oranges low enough to reach without a ladder, I pick a small one and hand it down to Scout before twisting 4 much larger fruit off the branch and nestling them in the uplifted hem of my sarong.  Scout bounded off to bury this orange with the rest of his collection (he's an odd dog, but then he is mine) and I carried my treasures back to where I left my coffee.

    The sun was shining this morning, so I decided to sit on top of the wall and peel an orange.  There isn't a much better way to start the morning than sitting in the sun eating a sweet orange fresh off the tree.  As I peeled the skin I could already smell the sweet fruit inside.  Drawing my legs up underneath me, I delighted in the juice running down my wrist as I selfishly devoured an entire orange without being asked to share.  After eating another orange I realized that my headache and sore neck were gone.  Just about then my offspring noticed I wasn't in the house and my daughter's pretty face peeked out the screen door.  "Can I have one too?"   Sharing is nice, at least that's what I tell them after the fact...   

    The Equinox Bunny visited my house on the first day of Spring. Now he/she/it may be on his/hers/it's way to your house and despite what anyone tells you, those are NOT miniature chocolate eggs left in your grass...Bunnies don't lay eggs!

Mr. T brings pity to the fools for Easter

Come to the Dark Side, we have chocolate bunnies

     My sleep experiment has been fairly successful this week.  Racking up close to 8 hours each night has given me an irritating new level of energy, on top of the already frighteningly high level at which I function normally, or is it abnormally?  There is one twist though, something a few of you may have noticed, I'm not online much anymore.  In the last week I have been a whirling dervish, in and mostly out of my house and by the time I get home, turning on the computer and sitting still just doesn't appeal to me as much.  Add to that the gorgeous warm California spring weather and I feel unstoppable!  Hands up go Wheeeeee!!!! 

     Driven by my mother's inability to, well to be honest, to do anything, and my monster in law's newest passive aggressive way of chapping my ass, I'm a woman possessed!  So what's that newfangled low to which my monster in law has sunk?  Remember my rants about her deranged need to hold on to EVERYTHING, thusly offering me her cast off crap in lieu of throwing it out herself?  Now she has taken to gathering up the shit her neighbors are throwing out and instead of calling and asking me if I want it, knowing that I will always say no, no matter what it is, she keeps it upstairs at her house and the last time we went over to visit, she called my son upstairs to ask him if he wanted it.  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HER?!?  The item in question was some hideous looking wooden mask with shredded rope hair.  

     As if offering up her neighbor's trash wasn't insulting enough and more than a bit crazy, she then attempted to bamboozle me by telling me that she looked the mask[s] up on-line and the one she offered Tallon was from Africa, and the one she then mysteriously produced to offer me was from Bali and was, according to her "research", a wedding mask.  I guess no one told her that you can't bullshit a bitch, so I took the "African" mask to allegedly check it's energy, telling her that I can't have a mask of such ancient history with bad mojo in my house.  After a big show of running my hands over it, sniffing it, closing my eyes and holding it atop my flat palms, I turned it over to see the back.  Guess what I found?  A sticker that says, "Hello Bali Imports, Palm Springs, CA".  What was that you said about African?  Uh huh.  Just to be obnoxious, I performed an even more elaborate vibratory verification ceremony on the other mask before turning it over as well.  That one still had the Cost Plus price tag on it!! 

     I think my monster in law has taken the saying, "one man's trash is another man's treasure" WAY WAY to literally. 

    And just to add to my merit badges, I'm now a surrogate mother to an abandoned baby dove that hatched in one of my hanging plants on the porch. Fuzzy, as my kids have named it, and the entire plant it's nest is in, is currently snuggled under a soft stuffed toy and I'm feeding it with an eyedropper.  The work of a goddess is never done.    

     As I was reading the local newspaper tonight, I stumbled across something that made my underwear creep and my toes curl.  The fear I felt wrapped around me, fearing I would never recover, I carefully set the paper down and backed slowly away from it.  I was reading the police blotter, which is generally very short seeing as I live in the 4th safest city in America, but after what I read tonight, I'm just not sure I can continue to live in such a crime ridden city.  Our safety ranking may slide to 5th, or even 6th, property values will plummet and before you know it, the city will be run by those tough Asian biker gangs I saw last year, you remember, the ones with the green ankle boots, member's only jackets, fanny packs, and their cold hearted leader, the man in the Mickey Mouse stadium jacket.  Oh I simply shudder at the thought, or was that your cold hand slipping under my sarong?

     It seems, and I'm almost too afraid to even put this in print, but it seems that last Friday the first person fell victim to this horrid and very personal violation, I, I, I.....I'm trembling just thinking about it....but I feel it is my civic duty to alert the public to this new brand of violence, so I'm just going to have to buck up and say it.  A member of my fine community, while mistakenly believing they were safely resting at home, received....*shuddering* an annoying phone call. 

     Now I know what you are thinking, how callous and thoughtless for me to violate the sanctity of your personal havens with my retelling of this heinous crime, but I only did it because I care about your safety, for you see, the criminals didn't just strike once.  Nooooo, the criminal mind needs to continue to terrorize the people of the community and feed off the fame and notoriety, so they struck again a few days later.  YIKES!!  I'm so afraid, I even went so far as to take all of my phones off the hook, just to safeguard myself and my family.  But the crime spree wasn't over then, it seems that a few days later, on the other side of the city, a third annoying phone call was reported to our local police. Three in one week!! What is this world coming to?  Now I live in a city of nearly 90,000, so the rapscallions have so many chances to frighten more citizens. Who knows when it will stop or how many people will fall victim before the police catch these, these...... callers.

     This rash of attacks has me so petrified that I even turned off my cell phone.  Better safe than sorry.

The male is a domestic animal which, if treated with firmness, can be trained to do most things.

~Jilly Cooper