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Falling for Antonio - Pt. 2

June 30, 2008 on 8:54 am | In General Musing, Travel | 2 Comments. Join the fray.

Please God, don’t let my husband read this post. I’ll never hear the end of it. In fact, honey, if you’re reading this, just stop right now and hit the back button. It’s there in the upper left corner of your window.

He often accuses me of spacing out when I drive. And it’s true when I’m driving with him. When we’re together, I drive, he nagrivates. There’s no need to pay attention. He just tells me where to turn. My mind is free to wander. I swear I’m not like that driving on my own - I pay attention to where I’m going.

Antonio has changed all that.

Now even when I’m alone in the car he’s there, giving me directions - and it’s led to some… unfortunate consequences.

Last Tuesday (Mike, please stop reading now) I was driving home to Redmond from Bellevue. It’s a drive I’ve made several times a week for over 12 years. I could drive it in a coma. Or so I thought. I didn’t bother getting the GPS out of the glove box for such a quickie.

As I was driving home this time, I noticed that the highway department had made a lane revision. They’d moved the HOV lane from the outside lane (stupid) to the inside lane (duh!). Huh! Thought I, About time. But when had they done it? I was pretty sure it had been less than a week since my last trip down that stretch of highway. Could they have changed it in just a few days? Then I noticed that the paint on the new HOV lane was worn. Had they changed it longer ago and I just didn’t notice? It seemed odd, but whatever.

But gradually, other things seemed unfamiliar, off, not where I expected. Eventually I started to suspect something was up. I started looking for landmarks, known off ramps, anything to tell me where I was.

It finally dawned on me that I’d somehow missed the one major, unmistakable turn of the trip: the interchange to 520 East. I was miles up the 405 and heading north. How was it possible? I could drive this route from the grave!

I realized I’d become dependent on Antonio, letting him take control, sure his voice would come when it was needed. In the meantime, I had only to drive and wait for instructions. Apparently even when no instructions were forthcoming.

I headed for the nearest off ramp. I could turn around and retrace my steps, but Antonio was just an arm’s reach away. Surely he would know a better route. With a sigh I opened the glove box and curled my hand around his mounting post.

He was stern with me.

“Dé vuelta a la izquierda aquí.”

I couldn’t comply! I was stopped at the curb on the right and the left turn was across three lanes. There was no way I could get there in time. I passed the turn, panting in frustration.

“Recálculo.”

Outwardly, he sounded patient, but I could sense the reproach in his voice. Another impossible turn command! Did he want me to fail? I passed that one too, desperately looking for somewhere to turn around.

“Recálculo. Dé vuelta a la derecha.”

At last, a move I could make! I turned right and heaved a sigh of relief as the green arrow held steady. I could feel Antonio’s grudging forgiveness. He took me straight home.

This time.

To be continued…

Falling for Antonio - Pt. 1

June 29, 2008 on 10:46 am | In General Musing, Travel | 2 Comments. Join the fray.

His voice was deep, firm, insistent.

“Dé vuelta a la izquierda.”

I could only obey and trust him to guide me to the end. And hope this sick obsession was never discovered.

It started innocently enough. A gift from my parents. They had just purchased a new Garmon GPS navigator for their RV, Roadzilla, and no longer needed their old Tomtom GPS. I resisted using it for weeks. My husband wanted to give it the boot. I wasn’t ready to park it on the dash, but eventually, idle curiosity got the better of me.

It’s a seductive thing, a GPS device. Even my husband’s curiosity was revved, though he insisted on suspension of the voice feature. That’s when I discovered the sad truth that it doesn’t actually drive the car. You have to look at it every now and then and note where the green arrow is pointing.

So we navigated to the menu and saw that there was a fleet of voices to choose from. Mike immediately opted for Katherine. French, it said. Ooh la la! I’m sure he expected a sweet ride from a coquette. Instead, we got Sister Katherine. You could practically hear the slap of the ruler in the palm of her hand as she imperiously instructed us to tournez à droite. I didn’t want to find out what might happen if I didn’t comply.

I searched the menu in vain for Barry White.

It’s not like I need a GPS. Most of the time I’m going places I’ve been to before. But there it sits in mute authority and you start to wonder… Have I been doing it wrong all this time? Could it be better?

I started using it more. Just out of curiosity, mind you. Was my route to the store really the most efficient? Would it trip up and send me on some wild journey far from my destination? Could I learn to speak a foreign language while driving? That’s when I decided to try Antonio. Brush up the old español. Little did I know how surrendering to his confident commands would get my engine purring.

“Usted está acercando a su destinación.”

Sí, Antonio.

To be continued…

Supershort

June 25, 2008 on 3:35 pm | In General Musing | Leave a comment. You know you want to.

Stories any length, but there’s a special appeal to stories that come in very small packages. It’s almost voyeuristic - an ear at a window, an eye at a keyhole - and the very imcompleteness of it urges the imagination to fill in the blanks. A few of my favorite ultrashort fiction sites: Six Word Memoirs, Vestal Review, One Sentence and 100 Word Stories. The last one offers a new 100 word podcast story every day and a weekly challenge to listeners. The winner (by popular vote) of the previous week’s challenge picks the theme for the next week. I’ve entered a half dozen times so far. Here are my stories, with audio:

Week 114 Theme: What would you do if you found yourself face to face with a dragon and all you had was a boyscout handbook and a pinata costume?

Dragon - mp3

She stared at the screen. Who were they kidding? A boyscout handbook? A pinata costume? How on earth would those things help you with a dragon?

“I swear, hon, they’ve really lost it this time.”

“Let it go, Alma.”

“I hate this! It’s impossible and it pisses me off that I won’t get a story in this week.”

She felt his hot breath on the back of her neck. “Want me to blast ‘em for you?”

“No, no.” She reached up and stroked the familiar, scaly claw that curled gently around her shoulder.

“I give up. Take me flying, baby.”

Week 112 Theme: Whiskey

Whiskey - mp3

Thunder cracked and we retreated a little farther into the the meager protection of a rocky overhang. Four days into the Yosemite back country at a high lake and it was cold. A sudden storm crowded the sun out of an autumn afternoon and now lightning stabbed granite peaks surrounding the lake continuously.

At the height of the tempest, two more hikers crawled into our sliver of shelter. We huddled; four little bugs tucked into a crevice, waiting to warm our wings. Then one of our new friends pulled a fifth of whiskey out of his pack.

Let it rain.

Week 111 Theme: One

One - mp3

“That’s one.”

Peering over her boss’s shoulder, Alma saw the blue screen of his new laptop. Crashed. Bummer. She returned to her desk. Like the laptop, it was her first day on the job.

A moment later:

“That’s two.”

She could hear the jab of angry fingers. She winced in sympathy and continued working.

“That’s three.”

She jumped at the sound of breaking glass. When she looked through the door she was aghast. Her new boss stood by a shattered window.

“My God!” She exclaimed, “That’s insane! It’s 35 stories down! You might have killed someone!”

He turned, glaring.

“That’s one.”

Week 108 Theme: Gold

No audio for this one. I was on vacation.

At last a small cove yielded up a crescent moon of smooth sand.

The crossing had been harrowing and the coast, after months at sea, taunted them for days with impenetrable cliff walls. But the promise of a new land of gold and riches kept them at the ship’s rail.

Ernesto leapt from the boat into the foaming surf, ignoring the water streaming into his leather boots. He scrambled up the rocks and gazed at the expanse of small yellow flowers that carpeted the land to the line of distant trees.

“Capitan!” he shouted, grinning, “We have found the gold!”

Week 107 Theme: The Chair

Chair - mp3

Alma walked by that door a hundred times a day and even if she didn’t break her stride, some part of her always lingered there for a thudding heartbeat or more. Sometimes she’d pause for a moment to reach toward the knob and feel its warm burnished surface, or run a finger down the dark, grooved wood of the doorframe. She didn’t have the key. But it wasn’t like she didn’t know what was in there: The room was completely empty save a single heavy wooden chair. She shuddered slightly and glanced at the clock on the wall.

Week 105 Theme: Forbidden

Forbidden - mp3

“I thought they’d be round, like apples!”

“Better than apples,” came a languid reply from the branches.

She peered into the dense foliage of the tree, trying to make out the sinuous form hidden in the shadows. The branches were heavy with ripe fruit. Her hand barely reached around the long, fleshy cylinder as she plucked it. Its bulbous end released an unfamiliar aroma that filled her head.

“Would you like to know how to properly enjoy the fruit of this tree?”

She hesitated for a moment, but her appetite was stirred.

“I really shouldn’t.”

The long body uncoiled and rose. “It will be our little secret.”

Week 103 Theme: Steamer Trunk

Steamer Trunk - mp3

Alma shut the lid and punched in her code. Again. When she opened the box, it was still empty. Damn infomercials! It was supposed to be the best new thing to solve household storage problems. Using the new transdimensional gateway technology, you could fit all your stuff in a box about the size of a steamer trunk. All coded for instant retrieval. Except now it wasn’t giving anything back. Anything that went in was just gone. And the tech support lines were disconnected.

Alma stood, dusted her hands, and called to discontinue her garbage collection service.

Week 100 Theme: Cake

Cake - mp3

Alma bent her legs first one way and then another, trying to find the right fit. In the end, she discovered if she curled up on her side and tucked her right foot tightly behind her left ankle there was just room to snug her hips inside the rim of the round pan. She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against her thighs; left arm beneath her cheek and right snaked into the small space above her feet. It wasn¹t easy, but wasn¹t her family worth a little sacrifice?

After dinner the kids all begged for an extra slice.

There’s a new challenge every week if you feel inspired.

Where the Hell…

June 22, 2008 on 9:32 am | In General Musing, Movies, Travel | 1 Comment. So lonesome - Please leave another.

Sometimes you find something completely without cynicism or snark that just makes you smile.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

It’s Like a Fish. But It’s Not a Fish.

June 20, 2008 on 2:19 pm | In General Musing | Leave a comment. You know you want to.

You’re unique. Just like everybody else.

It’s meant as a joke, but there’s a great grain of truth in it. In the act of discovering the uniqueness of everybody else, you begin to accept your own as something usual rather than alarming. When my son was a young teen and sure everyone was normal except him, I assured him that anyone who seems normal is merely someone you don’t know well enough.

One of the pleasures of the old TV show, “America’s Funniest Home Videos” was that it gave you glimpses into the human truth that everyone is reassuringly abnormal in his own way. Just. Like. You.

Every family has its own culture, language and history. Incidents become stories become tropes - short-hand, traditional responses that tie us together and set us apart. Here are three from mine:

It’s a bread slicer!

A childhood vacation in some forgotten California town. We stopped at a bakery for snacks and my sisters and I stood rivited by the automatic bread slicing machine until we were forceably dragged away. In our experience bread CAME sliced. It had never crossed our minds even to wonder how it got that way. It became the sole topic of conversation in the car until mom exclaimed, “For Pete’s sake! It’s just a bread slicer!” Since then the call “it’s a bread slicer” is invoked whenever someone is getting carried away by unwarranted enthusiasm.

Honey, I refrigeratored the car

Sometime before my sister’s wedding, she and her fiance rented an apartment. They needed a refrigerator and she happened to be the one with time to shop. It was the first time she’d gone out on her own and made a major purchase with “their” money. She made such a big deal of this milestone that to this day, when one partner makes a large household purchase on the trust of the other, it’s been “refrigeratored.” I once refrigeratored a minivan. But that’s another story.

Is it a bus?

My neice, Katy, was maybe three years old. She and her friend Cody liked to play this game where one would draw a picture on an Etch-a-Sketch and the other would guess what it was. Katy wiggled the knobs and presented the resulting mess to Cody. After pondering a minute he said, “Can I have a hint?”

Katy nodded, “It’s like a fish, but it’s not a fish.”

Cody asked, “Is it a bus?”

“Yes!”

There must be lost secrets of childhood.

Ever since, the only satisfying response to any conversation-stopping, out-of-left-field non sequitur has been “Is it a bus?”

These are the kinds of small/large moments that give a family a shape. All together instead of one-by-one. I better stop before I make a bread slicer of it.

Now it’s your turn to share. How is your family unique?

I Married the Stevie Wonder of Japan

June 15, 2008 on 9:05 am | In General Musing | Leave a comment. You know you want to.

Today was Father’s day in Japan. Same as here. (What are the odds of THAT happening?)

The host family my son, Alan is living with while he studies there had a typical Japanese celebratory feast:

Tonkatsu (breaded fried pork cutlet), sashimi, spaghetti with marinara, empanadas, green tea-flavored cake and a piece of smoked salmon Alan brought from home and gave as a father’s day gift.

A little UN on a plate.

After dinner he played our CDs for the family. Shinji-san, his host father opined that the picture of Mike on the back cover of the Balkanarama Live CD looks like Stevie Wonder. At first we were confused. Mike, bald white guy looks like Stevie Wonder, cornrowed black guy? Then we were amused. I guess we all look alike.

But then, out of curiosity, I looked at the picture on the back of the CD and looked up some pictures of Steve Wonder and holy cow! Separated at birth!

Separated at Birth

Testing…

June 13, 2008 on 5:43 am | In General Musing | 1 Comment. So lonesome - Please leave another.

<tap tap tap> Is this thing on?

Phew! Upgraded from WordPress 2.2 to 2.5.1 yesterday - always a harrowing task. Will it eat my blog? Will I see you on the other side?

The prognosis is still a bit hazy. The upgrade ate my theme and my widgets. Thankfully, the posts showed up, a bit dazed and confused but still standing.

Hope you like the new theme - I’m still editing it. New widgets on the way.

If your RSS feed is showing up empty, please update it to http://feeds.feedburner.com/lunatalk

Down the Drain

June 12, 2008 on 9:24 am | In General Musing | 2 Comments. Join the fray.

I was whining to a friend about blogging. Why keep at it, knowing hardly anyone reads the damn things? My exact words were, “It’s like peeing in the shower.” As in, you know - feels good, no one notices.

This was the point were the conversation veered sharply. My whinee was, um, shocked at my casual assumption that everyone pees in the shower. As if the toilet drains to some other sewer than the pristine one your other household drains go to. (They don’t, right?) He claims never to have committed this particular act. I was tempted to call bullshit. I mean, come on! Never? But my gut tells me he wasn’t lying.

Of course that got me thinking. Doesn’t everyone enjoy the occasional whiz in the shower? Do people get out of the shower and drip over to the commode? Or did I inadvertently confess to some kind of squalid, lowlife behavior that I should be ashamed of? I guess it’s a little late for that. So how about reality check instead?

I tried to put a poll here and it’s not working, so for now just leave your answer in a comment.

Poll: Pee in the shower?

The very sound of running water starts my “faucet”
Duh
I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you
Only if someone tells a really funny joke
Remind me never to stay at your house, OK?

Night of Enchantment

June 11, 2008 on 11:25 am | In General Musing | 3 Comments. Join the fray.

I don’t know if this is the right spelling: Laylet al-Tarab means “Night of Enchantment.” It refers to an Arabic custom of women’s private parties, where they let their hair down, dance, sing, eat and generally get out from under the men. So to speak. If I’ve got this all wrong, I hope someone who knows more will enlighten me.

My belly dance class had a Laylet al-Tarab last night and it was a most enjoyable evening. I came home tired, tipsy, too full of hummus and with hennaed hands:
henna

Last night with henna paste still on.

henna2

This morning with dried henna removed.

No pictures from the party though. Women’s eyes only.

I have such mixed feelings about Middle Eastern culture. How can a culture with such transcendent dancing, music, food, and art reduce women to second class citizens and worse? So I’ll mix the pleasures of the Night of Enchantment with this outrageous send up of Saudi Arabia’s attitudes about women - a very silly song that out-Eva’s Eva Moon. I gotta wonder any lyricist who will rhyme “labia” and “Arabia” and damn, I wish I’d thought of it.

Best line:

It’s great if you’re from Mars
But not if you’re from Venus
If you wanna drive a car
You better have a penis

Junuary

June 10, 2008 on 11:12 am | In General Musing, In the news | Leave a comment. You know you want to.

Global Warming has not reached the Pacific Northwest.

Seattle just experienced it’s coldest first week of June, according to climate records dating to 1891. Five to 10 inches of new snow are expected in the Cascades tonight. The high today is expected to reach 56F, warming to 70 by Friday.

I realize this is little comfort to those of you sweltering in the east. Please allow me these words of apology: Nanny nanny boo boo.

I do know that will come back to haunt me. But probably not for months at least.

But to return to the alleged existence of Global Warming, I was informed the other day, that the very intractableness of the weather has led to a new spin - I mean name correction: Global Climate Change. This is an amusing development. It sounds neutral, scientific, rational while essentially implying, “Whatever the weather is, it’s fucked up and we fucked it up. No exceptions. And woe betide anyone who doesn’t jump on the panic wagon.”

The really cool thing about this, looking at it from poor aging Earth’s point of view, is it drops the responsibility in the lap of outside miscreants. Earth can sit back with an air of injured innocence and say, “Moi? Certainly not!”

Think how a simple change to neutral terminology could take the sting out of so many different, unpleasant things about aging - excuse me, Chronological Progress: Weight Modification? Hairline Correction? Memory Moderation? Erectile Variation?

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Falling for Antonio - Pt. 2

Falling for Antonio - Pt. 1

Supershort