Back

well fuck, fuckin' Verizon, despite their lack of assistance, I'm back on line. apparently you have got to pay to speak to someone who actually speaks English, despite having been transferred from the folks who sorta speak English to the premium technical support the tech could not speak to me until I spoke to a salesperson.

Left to figure out on my own it took a while. I'm hoping there are other alternatives but recalling the verbal abuse I've heaped upon the technical support at the other avenues available to me, I fear I may have to rig some kind of tin can, string arrangement.

Fuckers.

The Tradition Was...

to dance with them that brung ya. But in the case of President Elect Obama, it's more of a fuck them that brung ya. Rick Warren? Really? Several weeks ago when I learned of the invitation of Warren to deliver the inaugural invocation, I'm pondered that for a while reading transcripts of comments Pastor Warren gave equating Gay Marriage to pedophilia. Note to Pastor Warren: pedophiles are historically much more likely to be in your line of work. Feeling disrespected and pissed off, I wrote to the Obama folk and having received the standard dash off, thanks for your comments automated email response, I removed myself from their mailing list as well as the mailing lists of Move-On.org and the HRC. Perhaps not the ideal solution but I'm past the point of enabling people to treat me with disrespect. And taking my money out of the political marketplace was my main way to do it. I don't need to pay to get fucked.

I continue to fantasize about my own political party, one that promotes the position that freedom from religion is as important as freedom of religion, also one that actively questions why marriage is considered a civil business at all when it's historical origins include being considered a sacrament by the Catholic Church and thus why aren't all 'marriages' simply civil unions within the law. Why is one being issued a licensed for what clearly originated as a religious instituion, oh yeah and historically a way for men to own women? I know for a fact back in my Catholic days I didn't not require a license to be baptized, first communioned or confirmed, and nobody had better obtain one to get me extreme unctioned or else we gonna brawl.

Yeah

Happy Freakin' New Year.

Blah, blah, blah.

The FReakin' Plague

So I have another year end coughter event (coughter is like laughter only not as funny) Not enjoying the coughing. But I'm lolling around watching Shrek, and am almost startled to see how much he reminds me of me. Well, except that I'm usually not green. And I don't need donkey, because I have Sharkbutt and the big cats.

Sharkbutt Insists and Who Am I to Argue?

I am going to do this
but, no not quick enough for sharkbutt, I'm not a cow and I don't moo.

1) I drink a lot of water, I used to drink a lot of scotch, big lot.
2) I'm not that bad at cooking, I'm bad at keeping track of the recipe.
3) I do have a coworker that's nutty as squirrel poo.
4) My ring tone is the theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly - parallel with my life.
5) I skateboard in my living room.
6) Hanging out with the guys is even more peaceful than hanging out with the cats http://www.namgyal.org/
7) THe moon is full tonight and I was just out baying at it, the nastygram from the homeowners ass is probably already in the mail.
8) I read alot.
9) My Saturday wear is a hoody and a sarong, stylin'.
10) I'm thinking instead of gay people not being allowed to enter into marriage let's just call everyone's deal civil unions and be done with it.

10 Honest things about me

Sharkbutt already did a fine job on this over at his blog, I shall update as the spirit moves me, but understand me now and hear me later, I'm not a cow, I do, however, moo.

Fuck, Shit, Hell

My friend Ken died over the weekend. He was the guru of all things health benefits at our joint. Lots of fun, a good soul. We were the same age, his birthday the 22nd, mine's the 23rd. His cancer had been in remission, his prognosis was great, until the mets. All kinds of fucking mets. Showed up on his last PET scan. People have been walking around work looking lost since we were told he'd not be able to come back to work. Fuck, Shit, Hell, Damn.

This was kind of cool

I have found Lama Surya Das to be insightful and pithy as hell.



Interview with Lama Surya Das

Insight From Bosco the Wonder Dog

You rong. You rexperiencink pain cos sara palin has her razor sharp rodent teef sunk in you leg. Her want to stop you from ebber gedding married n stuff. She say she reed yor blog and you an arab. She say she reed yor blog and you pal around wif nutjobs. She say you not even a reel amarican. chomp chomp. pain. see?

yor frend,

Bosco!

Dear Bosco,
To quote my dear Sharkbutt, you make a rinteresting point and are scary kind of right. He calls her Sarah Pale-end. I think she needs to get a grip and it needs to be a grip off of my leg and out of my damn pocket.
Thanks,
Sheena Sharkbutts foodchik.

Not Just a Freakin' River in Egypt

Denial, it takes many forms and guises. Earlier in the week, I experienced knee pain, I don't do joint pain so I heeded the warning and refrained from Aikido until I could consult with P the torturer who is charged with all my orthopedic, chiropractic and muscular needs. She tested for a sartorius strain, no joy and checked the meniscus, nothing there - good news and given my symptoms thought perhaps my medial collateral ligament had been tweaked and perhaps I should rest and ice it. I have done that and it's gotten worse, and this is only my insight and certainly no reflection on any of the cadre of professional torturers I consult, but I think it's arthritis. It's no longer a medial deal and if I exercise (2.5 miles in 40 minutes @ the gym tonight) it feels better and it does, I'm guessing it's arthritis.

From Bosco

Hi, it's Sharkbutt's fren Bosco!

Foodchick happy cos she got us doggs. Me happy too, but me think peeple crazee. Me watch tv newz wif foodchick, and the old guy that on all the time, he look like somebodee leff him out in da sun too long. He look he going to hab a stroke. And da lady what be wif him sometimes, they say on tv she gone rogue. Me know what dat iz from watching aminal planet wif foodchick! It meenz she turneded into a elephant that stampedes over everybodee and use its tusks to turn stuff over and uproot trees n stuff. And they trumpet lots. Then somebody shoot it wif trank dart and it go to sleep and wake up in circus act.

xo

Bosco!

1:22 PM

Hi Bosco, How are you? And your teeth? Give your foodchik a hello for me. I used to watch the tv news, but the old plastic guy looks too scary to me and the energy coming off him is looking more and more toxic. And yes, that lady sure seems to be stampeding and around and I'd sure not trust her with tusks. Both of them look to me like a trank dart would be a really good idea.

If Sharkbutt runs for president, I think he'd want you to be his vice president and chief advisor Bosco, you're really smart.

Have a happy day,
Sheena, sharkbutt's foodchik.

In My Ample Spare Time Tonight...

I have to further investigate the funeral methods of Tibetan Buddhists, I promised a friend that I would throw her one, and not that she's going anywhere, but this is probably something best not attempted on the fly.

I need to write about Reiki for another friend whilst ignoring the fucking doorbell.

If the weather is, as promised in the 60's this weekend, I need to liberate some sentient beings and pray over them to change the karmic balance a little for some folks I know.

I've gotta figure out the freakin' weather stripping.

And what I'm going to do is read, do laundry and exercise with the cats. Because that's really all I need to do. Though, I've been advised all I really need to do is breathe.

Siiiiigh

My grandparents were old school, at the time of his death in 1995 my maternal grandfather was 103. We're talking old, old school. So I'm sitting here, watching the World Series game and we get a Cialis commercial. I can just picture being pulled up to the tv in my grandfather's house watching the world series together as we would do and trying to pretend that there was not a discussion of erectile dysfunction going on on the tv. Such a thing would have made his eyeballs explode, mine too.

Triumph of Reason or what?

So the world is or is not in a recession, the stock market is pretty much in the shitter and the verbose class is hollering the sky is falling. Except no, the sky is not falling. Yes, the economic state of affairs is daunting. But no, the sky is still where it belongs. And if you (among the half dozen people that might stumble across my natterings) are reading this several things are true, your lungs are working, your heart is beating and with any kind of good luck you and your loved ones are in good health. You have access to a computer which suggests that you have access to healthy food, clean water, heat and shelter. So you're better off than most of the folks currently occupying the planet. And if you're a Phillies or Rays fan - you can just quit your bitchin' now.

If, like me, you enjoy the presence of pets in your life, you've got it as good as anyone can ask for. I've got an 18lb, striped 8 year old on my left lap, and a calico Puppy on my left shoulder. The Shark is patrolling the non-waters for snacks, toys and food. Eventually he will disturb one of the occupants so he can type his blog.

I'm grateful for those items mentioned above and that I have leisure time on a Saturday morning to type my thoughts.

Things that make you go hmmm Revisited

Now, you know there wasn't any way I was letting this go. To review, friend passed along the opinion of her aunt that one can determine that one is pregnant by squatting over a mirror and seeing if one's cervix is blue. Since i was visiting the friendly neighborhood doc last week, I asked her to weigh in on the matter. She took my question very very seriously, as she is prone to do. But ventured that without sufficient lighting especially early in a pregnancy you ain't seeing that bad boy cervix. Then there's the whole matter of shedding enough light on the subject, I was left with visions of the doctor-style headlamp with reflector and the head of the wearer on its way adjacent to its own ass.

So amongst the medical profession, the bird eye view of the cervix mirror or no, not so much. However, the color of the vulva do change when one is pregnant. Who knew?

I Have More Than A Few Issues

with which I disagree with the Republican candidate for president, and the Republican Party.

This states it way better than I could.

If you're thinking of voting for McCain read this

Random Pondering

As I type pondering it doesn't really look right to me, preferring the Jerseyism - pondle, which as you might anticipate is a combination of ponder and fondle. Hey, as a massage therapist, I'm a tactile thinker. That's my story and I stick to it. Well, and I have this whole semi-permanent soft porn reel looping through my head. Anyway, in my abundant free time (ha) I had an opportunity to take a real good look at my hands and forearms. For a large woman (I'm a shade under 5'10" fresh out of the chiropractor) my hands are small in length, but wide and for lack of a better word, thick. More than once my forearms have gathered some notice, especially memorable was the time, a friend said, "Hey Sheena, Pop-Eye called, he wants his forearms back." All in all, I'd say among my untattooed appendages they're my favorites.

I recall one experience during my clinical training as a massage therapist, the client, a woman in her late middle years, exclaiming for the better part of a half hour that my hands were so big. Good that she was prone, because, I looked at my hands, looked at her as if she had lost her mind and kept right on with what I was doing. Other people heard her remarks and after the massages were over came to investigate. To a person, we responded, what the fuck?

Weight Watchers

Rejoined Weight Watchers the other week and have lost 4.8 lbs so far. It does find me more uttering more creative euphemisms to discribe my hunger.

I'm so hungry I could eat the asshole out of a skunk.
I'm so hungry I could eat the crotch out of a ragdoll.

Well, that's pretty much all I can put on a blog without getting a nastygram, I think.

Back to Aikido

I'm quite excited about the prospect of returning to Aikido class tonight. Mainly, because I love Aikido - love it. More than once I've considered forgoing the old job and becoming an Ushi-deshi (kind of a live in minion) but then what would I do with the cats. And who the hell am I kidding, my 8 hours of paying miniondom is just fine thanks very much. Also, I'd set the goal (loosely as many of my goals are ever set) to earn the rank of Shodan (1st degree black belt) before my next birthday that ends in zero. No need to worry about what that is, if you know it's cuz you have the sense to keep quiet about it and if you don't know, either ask me or demonstrate the sense to keep quiet about it. And yep, I digress.

So, part of the prep for this entails finding the house garments - gi, hakama, belt, tape and braces for the joints that need taping and bracing. And vitamin N, naproxen - my anti-inflammatory agent of choice. Vitamin I Ibuprofen makes me act some kind of rabid so i can't take that one any more.

You can expect periodic updates on my training. The name of this blog is east coast randori - there's a definition of randori in the header, it's as apt a metaphor for life, at least my life as I've ever come across. And while I enjoy the one on one partner work of aikido where you learn the technique, refine the technique and learn to fall with a certain amount of grace. Randori brings it to the next level where rather than reacting to a set technique, you respond to what ever comes your way - a fist to the face, a grab from behind, whatever. Then dispatch the uke (attacker - although it really means the person receiving your technique) across the room. Sweet deal!

Anger, Gratitude and the Whole Ball of Mess

When one has read entirely too much self-help literature as I admittedly have, one gets a big heaping dose of thought on the toxicity of anger. I do not completely disagree because I’m quite cognizant of the effects that my own anger has had on my relationships with others as well as with myself (talking to myself has not always been as pleasurable an activity as it is today). On the other hand, I know damn right well that for more years than I’d care to count anger kept me going and saved my life. In the main I manage it pretty well lately, and no longer rely on my own anger and rage getting me out of bed in the morning (and not because I have the ‘cat stomp on bladder alarm’ made famous by my cat Sharkbutt). So while I do work at being mindful of the whys of my emotions and dig to discern what's at the root of my shit.

So what I'm reading now is called Feeding Your Demons,by Tsultrim Allione and it talks about treating them compassionately. Visualizing my body melting into a nectar that feeds the demon and treating the demon with compassion, until it turns into an ally or a protective daemon. Now, anger ain't my only demon, not by a long damn shot. And most of the demons I've collected I collected before I was a teenager. So I've been holding them at arms length for a long time. Still get flashbacks from some of them. Yeah, PTSD kinds of flashbacks, and I thought I was just twitchy. Turns out it was maybe a little more than then twitchiness on my part.

So today, I'm beyond grateful to the anger and that somewhere deep inside I had the wisdom to use it for what I needed it, and mostly had the good sense to stay out of trouble. It took until I was about forty to be happy to be the person who I saw in the mirror every morning, and I'm grateful that I've hung in that long.