Finally! After a VERY long weekend, in every possible sense, the sun was shining!  I sleep with my curtains open, so waking up to the sun kissing my bare skin is the best alarm clock.  I woke up all smiles and soft purring, ready to meet any challenge my day threw at me.  The morning routine went off without a hitch, sunshine turning  most of my household back into our joyous selves.  With one minion walked to  school and after a rousing round of the booty bounce morning dance-off between my son and I (which I won, by the way) before sending him off on the bus, I decided it was just too gorgeous to spend time indoors for one more second.   A singular offer to accompany me was callously shot down, so before an argument ruined a truly beautiful day, I grabbed my camera and set off for some quality time with one of my favorite people. ME!

   Something down at the harbor was calling me, so that's where I went.  Wandering around with the soft ocean breeze threatening to unleash my curls which I had haphazardly pulled up with a strand of glass beads,  I daydreamed about sailing off on one of the boats docked there.  I love being out on the ocean, or in the ocean, or in a pinch, just near the ocean, so I could easily imagine myself sprawled out on the deck of a boat, in nothing but a bikini and a smile, drifting with no care for what time it is, or where I have to be.   That's when I spotted the boat "Siren Song".  Perhaps that is what called me? 

     With a cup of hot coffee in my hand and a big smile on my face I am reading beautiful letters and some words from a song I was listening to today pop into my head:

"Fate smiled at destiny"  ~Natalie Merchant-Wonder

     These four words pretty much sum up how I'm feeling these days .  Lucky doesn't begin to describe it, happy only touches on it, I'm not sure even I can assemble words that could do how I'm feeling justice, and quite honestly, I'm too euphoric to even try.  Come bask in my glow...

     Right now I'm laying on my belly on the cool grass under the jacaranda in my front yard.  With my legs bent up  at the knees, ankles crossed and feet swinging playfully in time with the sweet sounds of birds around me, I must look like a woodland fairy. On the branches above me, my family of wrens flits from limb to limb, squeaking and chirping and singing their happy little songs.

     A few months ago, I spied mama bird carrying small twigs up to the top of my porch light where she was building her nest.  Having pulled several nests that had long since served their purpose out of there, I knew just what she needed for a soft lining.  The next morning I brought out a small handful my soft auburn curls and my daughter's spun honey strands of hair pulled from the bristles of our hairbrushes, draping them in the bushes near where mama bird was gathering materials.  Mama didn't take long to gather some in her beak and continue to build her nest. 

     One afternoon curiosity got the better of me and I decided to wrestle the ladder from my garage so I could take a peek at the contents of the nest.  There, in the tiny space on top of my porch light, was a perfect nest lined with strand of auburn and gold hair.  Tucked down inside the nest were 4 tiny blue eggs no bigger than jelly beans.  At that point I think the smile on my face could be seen from space.  I climbed back down, making sure to keep the ladder more accessible for future checks on my little visitors.

     With part of me becoming part of these tiny eggs lives, I felt somehow bonded to them, climbing back up my ladder every few days, and naturally, standing defiantly on the place clearly marked, "this is not a step".  I didn't want Mama bird to worry that I was going to hurt her precious babies to be, so I made sure that each morning I opened the door and greeted her. I wanted her to know the sound of my voice.  After a few mornings, she would greet me back by peering over the edge of her nest and squeaking, but not flying away as she first did.  She seemed to understand my intentions.

     A few more weeks went by, Mama and I greeting each other as part of a daily ritual, my son and daughter taking up "hawk watch" while they played in the front yard, and thankfully, our big red-tailed hawk had not dined on our current visitors.  One morning after walking my daughter to school, I climbed up on my ladder and discovered the most adorable truly ugly little hatchlings!  They were all wrinkled and dark gray, eyes still closed, just laying there so small and helpless waiting for mama to bring them back some food.  I didn't touch them, but I did take a picture.   I heard Mama in the Jacaranda squeaking, perhaps trying to tell me that I was close enough, so I climbed down, giggling. She knows I won't hurt them.

     The babies grew quickly, making quite a bit of raucous each morning when I opened the front door.  Now, my morning greetings included mama and her babies, who were getting big enough to be seen over the top of the nest. I continued to climb the ladder to see how they were growing, singing to them as I did when they were still in their eggs.  The different stages were fun to watch; feathers growing in randomly, eyes opening, little Mohawks of white feathers being replaced by smooth brown feathers, and the changes in the noises they made. One day when I checked them, they had all grown so big I wondered if maybe their flight lessons were going to be delayed because their little feathered butts were wedged in the nest.  Thankfully, this was not the case.

    Eventually all the babies learned to fly, but they still haven't flown away from my house.  I guess they know they are safe here.  I see them every morning still, the babies now tiny versions of mama and daddy, their tails just puffs of pale brown fluff.  They play tag in the flowers growing in the planter, chasing each other until one inevitably heads back for the nest, proceeding to lean over and taunt it's siblings once it's in there. 

     Right now, in the Jacaranda tree over my head, the little family of birds are playing and singing along with me as I scribble away in my mysterious green notebook.  I think I'll roll over on my back and watch them awhile. 

  In the background I heard a commercial for Boniva, claiming it increases bone density.  Isn't this the very same reason men take Viagra? 

Brent asked me to lift up my skirt.  No, that wasn't his only request, I saw something shiny and was momentarily distracted.  After britches were hitched in conjunction with getalongs, the shiny object was sheathed and once again I could focus my powers for good, shaken, not stirred, with a splash of evil and a dollop of whipped cream.  Is anyone else thirsty now?  No? Just me?  So, Brent asked for my insight into the origin of the term "layman".  Being a kind and generous giver goddess (no? Too much?), I have decided to let you all sip from my mountains, ahem...fountains of knowledge. 

The burning question was, what is my insight into the origin of the term, "layman"?  Let's begin with the definitions then I will bestow upon you my spin on the whole theory et al.

layman (n):  1) somebody without specialist knowledge: somebody, especially a man, who is not trained or expert in a specific area.

2) non-ordained: somebody, especially a man, who does not belong to the clergy.

That brings us to the origin of this term as I interpret it.  Which really is all the interpretation you need seeing as I am, well, me!  Stand back, I was out mostly naked recharging my solar cells in the two hours of sun we finally had at 4:00 this afternoon, so I have no idea how big this thing is going to get, and after my offering to the sun goddess for warming my bits and pieces and sparing the lives of those around me, I really don't care!  Oh, before I forget, does anyone know if samurai swords are returnable items?  Anyone?

I believe the phrase "in layman's terms" began with the evolution of humankind and the eventual discovery by early women that men were putty in their hands after being laid good and improperly.  Using definition 1 above, it comes to mind that men, in the midst of a good lay, tend to grunt and growl in a very basic and primitive manner. In addition to the grunting and growling, conversation during aforementioned laying is oftentimes reduced to one syllable words.  With this insight, one can see why "to use layman's terms" often refers to phrasing something in such a way that even the most simple of creatures can understand it.

Which brings us to definition 2, a lesser known use of the word "layman".  It's my thought that layman's terms used to refer to someone who does not belong to the clergy means that the "man" can indeed have a "lay" without consequence or guilt that so often accompanies men of a stricter religious belief.  When referring to a lay when had by a man belonging to the clergy, please use the term, "confession".  Why do you think they wear robes? Easy access, HELLO! 

Bless me father for I have sinned...it's been 30 minutes since my last "confession" and I've been a very bad girl!

*disclaimer*  The management takes no responsibility for the actions of this space owner as she is a solar powered machine and seems to be in the throes of some catastrophic system failure due to a lack of sunshine.  Proceed at your own risk, and never turn your back (or your front for that matter) to her.      

72 hours, no sunshine.  Doesn't seem like a big deal to some people (stupid people-SHUT YOUR COCK HOLSTERS!), but I'm about 15 seconds from a full fledged mental breakdown of epic proportions.  I can only be deprived of sunshine for a period of time not to exceed 48 hours, and even then, my contract clearly states that the temperature MUST remain above 65 degrees or I am not to be held responsible for any acts of violence I may commit.  I'm Filipino for fuck's sake, it's an island nation...we need sunshine!! 

I FUCKING HATE COLD GRAY WEATHER!!!

I can't put enough emphasis on that fatal personality flaw of mine. 

     Despite my attempts to wake up with a positive outlook, as the day drags on and the sun still doesn't shine, the only thing I am positive about is:

 I NEED SOME FUCKING SUNSHINE OR PEOPLE WILL DIE!!!!!!

     Thank you, that is all. 

     How do most people spend their weekends?  Some watch a sporting event of some sort whether it be on television or in person.  Others might be out gardening, shopping, cementing an alibi, breaking laws, touching themselves inappropriately or spending time with friends and family...the options are limitless really, but ideally all of you are getting out of your houses and enjoying life to the fullest.  This weekend, I continued honing my warrior Queen skills. 

     Yesterday I was up at the main dojo testing up for rank, again!  In case you are just joining us, I tested and moved up in rank in February as well.  Yesterday's test was for 4th kyu, the last level on my green belt and a mere 4 tests from that coveted black belt.  Not bad for just under 2 years of training.  Makes no sense? Thoroughly confused?  It's ok, there will be a make out session, I mean question and answer session, after the show.  Testing went well, was run entirely in Japanese again, and this is beginning to be one of those blogs that make me zzzzzzzzzzzz......huh? Sorry, I dozed off for a minute.  We get to go up in front of a panel of black belts while being pushed to our limits, but that's what makes us better, stronger, faster and fiercer. Our Shihan also likes to test our patience and make us wait for the results. I guess that's my karmic ass kicking for testing the patience of everyone around me, right? SHUT IT!!  I'm tired and sore, if you aren't going to massage me then just...Don't make me.....

     The highlight of my weekend was today though.  Sure, I love to test; all that adrenaline and nerves needing to be channeled through each and every fiber of my being, what's not to love?  But...you know how I feel about my sai *sigh*.  I spent all day in a college gymnasium becoming one with them at weapons training.  I learned a fierce new kata, got to spar with my actual steel weapons a little, THEN...we got to gear up and full contact spar with the tournament weapons our Shihan developed and patented.  YAY!!  There's really no better way to spend a Sunday than in a gymnasium with a whole bunch of karate students (and my son), wielding weapons and beating the living tar out of each other!  Elektra can kiss my ass, and learn to hold her sai properly for fuck's sake!

  I'm sore and in need of a massage.  Who's on duty tonight?