Uh oh. I went and did it again.
It was ANOTHER boring conference call.
And the marker board…it calls to me.
It’s my employer’s fault for giving me such a nice big marker board and a full accoutrement of colorful markers.
It can’t be helped. It really can’t.
Herewith, my latest seasonal doodle (click photo for larger size):
All the peppermint sticks and sugar cookies might be getting to me, ya know?
I just finished reading a book called “Riding Rockets: The Outrageous Tales of a Space Shuttle Astronaut.”
It is the biography of NASA Astronaut Mike Mullane, and it’s a pretty damn good book, not just because it’s about a kid who was raised in New Mexico (though many, many bonus points for that!), but because Mullane gets down to the nitty gritty details about what it was like to ride NASA’s Space Shuttle on three separate occasions.
Add to all of that, I personally think “Riding Rockets” is a fantastic title.
Which got me thinking…if I was going to write up the story of my life so far, what in the blazes would I call such a tome?
Tell you what…let’s brainstorm together, shall we?
Here we go…let me clear my mind…remember no idea is too outrageous, all have merit.
If Loving Cheese is Wrong, I Don’t Want to Be Right: My Life from Velveeta to Camembert
Fart Jokes Are Always Funny: A Retrospective
Decision Points: Red or Green? (<== honestly, doesn't that truly sum up my life?)
Ain’t Got Sense Enough To Come In Out of The Rain: My life, and other things my father said
It’s 10:00am and I Already Ate My Lunch: The trials and tribulations of a perpetually hungry girl
Nina Karen: Wisdom of the Ages (<== I can include the time I let my toddler aged goddaughter grab onto an electric fence. Great moments of godparenting...)
I’m From New Mexico: You don’t look like you’re Mexican, so Find A Map @#$&hole
Mommy, Why Does California Act That Way: A New Mexican’s tales of living in the craziest state in the union
Whoops!: One woman’s life of “excuse me” for inappropriate bodily noises
The Audacity of Taking the Last Piece of Pie: One woman’s quest to become a better wife, except when there’s pie involved
I’ll keep working on it….
Cartoon from Noise to Signal by Rob Cottingham
I’m what they call a robust gal. Hardy. Big boned. The word “petite” doesn’t apply to any of the assets I embody. I’m broad of shoulder and sturdy in the hips and thanks to a mom who told me to stand up straight, I own every one of my five feet and almost eight inches.
I had to stand in the back row for class photos. I long ago gave over to the knowledge that with these thighs, corduroy was not an option.
Back in college, I danced with short cowboys and took many a brim of a cowboy hat to the bridge of my nose.
After I moved to California, I wore flat shoes for years because I dated a guy not much taller than me. He once cooed over a friend who is teeny tiny, “you’re like a little doll!” he gushed. I never felt more elephantine than I did at that moment.
This is the hand I’ve got to play, dealt by my genetics. Honestly, I’ve become more sanguine about it over the years.
This brings us to the events of yesterday. I’d been invited to a status update meeting with a VP from my company and the CEO of a large multinational corporation.
In the morning, I dug around in my closet and put together a pretty nice outfit. A meeting like this is big doings, so I knew I had to up my game.
I got dressed and put on my favorite pair of three inch heels. The outfit looked great. Before leaving the house, I asked The Good Man if I was committing a work faux pas.
See…my boss is about 5’9″ on a good day, and his boss is maybe 5’6″ if the wind is right and he’s on the uphill side of an incline.
Is it bad form to tower over the people who pay my paycheck? The Good Man considered the question and decided the outfit worked, and thus all would be ok.
Off I went to work feeling pretty good. The meeting time rolled around and I stepped into the conference room. As I was the only woman in a roomful of nine men, they all rose and walked over to greet me.
Ok, so flatfooted I’m 5’8″ and now wearing three inch heels I’m 5’11”
There was only one person in the room who was taller than me. Just one. The rest of these #$%^ing Lilliputians scrambled around somewhere about my kneecaps.
*sigh*
At the end of the day, I was very glad to go home, kick off my tall shoes, stand on tippy toes, and kiss my 6’2″ husband.
Because that’s the best way to navigate through a day chock full of Oopma Loompa-ish men.
(I might also add that I was only one of two Americans in the room. We had a gent from Hong Kong, a Dutchman, an Aussie, a Swede, a Scotsman, a Russian, an Irishman, a Spaniard, an American from Phoenix…and me.)
I’ll send the angels to watch over you tonight
And you send them right back to me
A lonely road is a bodyguard
If we really want it to be
— From “Sleeping in Paris” by Rosanne Cash
Yesterday I climbed into the Jeep and went on a long overdue road trip, just me and my steel beast, 130 highway miles and lots and lots of thinking.
The reason for the trip was nothing earth shattering, just had to head up to the north side of Sacramento to attend some work related meetings.
Clocking in at just under three hours, it was a ghastly drive, not only because it lacks any sort of interesting things to see, but the stop and go traffic kept me on my toes most of the way.
I left plenty early to avoid commute traffic but had no luck. California’s Highway 80 is a busy road no matter what time of day.
As I drove, dodging other cars, stepping quickly on my brakes for yet another slowdown, stopping to pay the toll on the Carquinez Bridge, and cursing under my breath, I yearned for a different sort of road trip.
Growing up in New Mexico, the ability to hop in the car for the sole purpose of a long thoughtful drive was something I took advantage of every chance I got.
While living in Albuquerque, sometimes I’d gas up the car and drive to Soccoro, only to turn around and drive home.
I can’t lie to ya, Albuquerque to Soccoro isn’t a visually interesting drive either, but once out of the city limits, it’s a pretty easy road with hardly any traffic. I’d set the cruise control on 75, point ‘er south in a straight line and let my mind work out the problems of the day.
Straight roads and very little traffic produce a very fine form of therapy.
My all time favorite drive and think road, however, is Highway 28 in southern New Mexico. The stretch of road from Las Cruces to La Union and back includes canopy of pecan trees arcing over the road, arboreal arms to embrace and hold me safe in case I need to cry.
I got a lot of thinking taken care of on Highway 28.
Not so much on California’s highway 80. The thinking was more like, “uh, stopping again? Why? Oh please don’t slam into me!”
But still, it was a road trip and there is something beautiful about me, my decade old Jeep, shuffle on the iTunes and a problem to work out in my mind.
Oh, by the way, something else happened while out there on the road.
First, this occurred:
Shocking, isn’t it?
Then, from out of nowhere, this happened:
(No, mom, I wasn’t driving almost 80 while taking a photograph of my odometer. Why do you ask?)
It’s the first car I’ve ever owned from fresh off the lot to one hundred thousand miles. Sort of proud of my little Jeep.
And just because I’m feeling gratuitous, here’s a quad cam shot of the Bay Bridge (because the Golden Gate gets all the love).
(Click for full size)
Ok, I’m wandering off the point here. Let’s tie this whole thing together, and get back to where we began.
I discovered today that any road, even a commute time busy three lane highway in Northern California can be a lonely road.
And a lonely road is a bodyguard if we really want it to be.
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All photographs by Karen Fayeth, and taken with my iPhone 4. Bay Bridge shot from the QuadCamera app.
Despite the date showing that today is Monday, we’re going to pretend it is Thursday so I can meet my weekly Theme Thursday post.
This week’s theme challenge is: Sand
Ah sand.
Beautiful beaches. Swimming in the surf. Sand in your shorts.
Really, sand is sort of a metaphor for life. So useful. So inviting. So “ow, damn!” all in one substance.
I wanted to do something different with this theme so I went to my favorite free stock photo site, had to go several pages down, and found the image that really grabbed my attention.
Now we’re talking sand!
If you are a horse person, then you know *exactly* what that horse it up too. Just back from a nice long ride and back at the barn, the saddle has come off, the saddle blanked peeled back. The moment that trusty steed is turned loose he will drop awkwardly to the ground.
All four hooves will then swing up in the air and a much happier horse starts wriggling around, scratching a sweaty back in the sand with SUCH a look of joy. Some horses will even groan a bit while they scratch.
Ya can’t help but laugh.
It’s a moment of joy so pure, it makes me wanna flop down in the sand and roll around just to see what all those sighs of contentment are about.
Photo by Sue Nagyova and provided royalty free from stock.xchng