iPhone addict

When I first got my iPhone, I told myself that I would be content with downloading just the free app's. Then something happened that made me pay for one. Slippery slope. Next thing you know, I was downloading all of the recommended photo app's -- recommended on the site iPhone Atlas. And they were right. These app's totally kick butt.

But right now I'm addicted to Photoboard. Natasha asked why she is not the subject. I mentioned her Greta Garbo tendencies. I think she's onboard now. Boris is thinking that he should go on a diet after being confronted with images of a more svelte him.

The kitchen is sort of closed

No new food here for some time. I need to work my way through the things I have accumulated in the freezer over the last couple of weeks.

I tried to put this off on Monday by heading to Poulet for the Basque chicken. Alas, they were closed due to the holiday. How dare they?


But this was the sight I caught on my way home so I guess the outing was worthwhile.

And now I'm going to go out on a limb. There is a post that I actually meant to publish today about privilege. But then I decided that I'd probably catch a lot of crap for it and I'm really not in the mood.* The thoughts started a couple of weeks ago when folks were reacting to the Tim Rice piece that was being circulated via email. I noticed that while many of the folks who wrote posts about the piece understood it, there were quite a few commenters out there who just didn't. And yeah, I got pissed off. So instead of that post, I ask you to click on the link. I ask you to re-read the section on "The Persistence of White Privilege." Notice what Zetzer says about achieving change? It's about open dialogue. Hmmm. I vaguely remember saying something about that in the past year or so.

Also pay special attention to the section about wealth. This Wikipedia explanation is pretty on-point, although I do question the deletion of the stuff on housing. OK. So it's clearly discriminatory behavior. And I guess the link would be that it is due to privilege that realtors feel comfortable in engaging in this kind of behavior. Also I highly suggest that you check out the References and Suggested Reading at the bottom of the page. Perhaps after reading this you can understand why slavery enters the conversation so often. If a group of people are denied ownership, then there is no way that they can acquire wealth. And guess what? Most standardized tests do not measure a student's knowledge of a subject but the wealth of their parents. Yep, there is a direct correlation between wealth of parents and how a child performs on a standardized test. Now apply that fact to what we know about wealth distribution in this country.

Read a good portion of this and then you can have a conversation with me about what privilege is. Because this is a topic upon which I feel like Heather does about politics. I have spent way too many academic hours engrossed in this topic and it used to be part of my professional life. As a result, I may know more than other folks because I have read a lot of the writings in the area. So all I ask of y'all is that if you're going to write about a topic such as this, do your research first. Don't just base it on the one thing that you have read. Do the research.

Hell. My mother sent me an anti-McCain email tonight. I don't believe I have ever said on this blog how I plan to vote but I think I have made my political leanings pretty clear. While the email was compelling, I felt the need to do some fact-checking. What I found was that the alleged source of the email denied ever writing it. And so I did not forward it. If I do not have supporting evidence that something is true, then I will not pass it along. I think it's called having principles. And then I emailed my mother the details of the questionable provenance.

Oh dear. I just realized that I have written that post after all so I may as just keep going. This was really supposed to be about telling you to check this post out. But whatever.

So how did I become such an uppity bitch? My father's paternal grandfather somehow got his hands on 500 acres in Alabama. We still haven't figured that one out. My grandfather bought out his siblings upon their father's death and expanded the farm to almost 1800 acres during my grandfather's lifetime. It gave him the ability to send all ten of his children to college, if they wanted to go. All this while year after year, he took the tests to prove his fitness to vote -- and passed them every time -- only to be told that he could not vote. (It is for this reason that I vote in every election.) So yes, my family has wealth but a lot of my folks don't.

I have a small retirement fund. I rent an apartment. These are not necessarily signs of wealth. Of course, when certain family members die, I will suddenly find myself quite wealthy. I'm just not now. And so I can feel for folks who aren't. The folks on my mother's side? Far from wealthy. Many of them are just getting by. And this is why I can understand.

I just think that if we can't have these conversations, then we are fucked as a society. And if that's the case, then I'm out of here. I've already told my mother to get my room ready at the house in Mexico (Much easier to enter than Canada if you are fleeing. Or so I've been told.) because I might just have to move there. And you know that things have to be pretty bad here if I would seriously consider living under the same roof with my mother once more.

So let your indignant comments fly. Because the rule on my blog is that everyone can be heard. Except the spammers. Those are the only comments I delete. Because if we're going to have a conversation, then we all need to be heard. But the spammers don't count because they are clearly not a part of the conversation. And they're a rarity around here. I think I've only had to delete two comments at most as a result of spammers. Just so y'all know what kind of principles I hold.

*Death Watch 2008. My stepmother is now completely bed-ridden. She no longer has the muscle control to sit up. She is bloated and when conscious, hallucinates a great deal. I keep trying to make plans but I also know that they need to be fluid. The end is around the corner. May I never again have to experience the slow deterioration of someone about whom I care.

Stuff

I keep forgetting to take a picture for y'all every Wednesday evening. Because school is back in and that means that Wednesday evenings are spent tutoring. Math and English in case you're wondering. So instead, I give you this photo I found through Google.



The nice thing is that recently it has actually been sunny in Pacifica -- a rarity. So I get to go to a place that I find lovely and I get paid. Sometimes I get dinner as well. Can't get any better than that.

I am seriously trying to plan some vacations for myself but right now I feel as if my head is going to explode from attempting to make plans. So I took this quiz instead.

Your result for Zombie, Zombie Food, or Zombie Survivor Test...

The Survivor

You are well prepared and knowledgable and will no doubt live a long and happy zombie-free life. You might want to think about setting up a zombie survival group in your area, an anti-undead militia. But please, for everyone's sake keep it low-key. We don't want the government to think we are on to their scheme so take your band and keep moving.

Take Zombie, Zombie Food, or Zombie Survivor Test at HelloQuizzy

I wonder if these skills can get rid of irritating relatives. Hmmm...

Grumpy

So yeah. I've been pretty grumpy lately. I'm working on it though. When I'm pissed off, I like to run. It used to be if I was feeling grumpy, I'd go for a drive. Now I go for a walk.



Every summer there is corn in the field. I'm not sure if I really want to know what they do with the plants. In the fall it all gets tilled under and the Canadian geese show up. For at least a week. But the field wasn't my real destination.



Nope. Not the final destination. Every time I pass by Live Oak Park I do think of how I should go there more often though.



I fell in love with Codornices Park in elementary school. From first through third grades, I went to this babysitter's house after school. Most days she would take us girls to a park. Codornices was the special occasion kind of park. There are trails along the creek. But best of all is the cement slide built into the hill. For really good speed, it's best to use wax paper or cardboard under your butt.





And nothing beats the views from up there.



Or the beauty of the Rose Garden across the street. I always forget that there are tennis courts next to the Rose Garden. All I could think was, "Is there a cooler tennis court anywhere else? I don't think so."







On my way back down the hill, I couldn't resist taking a few photos of the homes around the area. The first is of a house that's being remodeled. The other two photos I had to take after seeing an "Apartment for Rent" sign. I don't even want to imagine what the rent is up there. (I had to look out of curiousity since I knew the property management company would have it listed on their website. $2,650 for a two bedroom. Although they only show photos of one bedroom. Hmmm.) By this time I was also chatting with Zombie Mom on the phone. I think that she was amused by my random valuations of houses I passed. Like this large Tudor style one. Sorry but no photo. "Hmmm. One point five."

The whole walk was a little over two miles. As a reward, I stopped at Gregoire for the eggplant and the potato puffs. As I stood at the register, I felt my legs starting to shake a bit. So now grumpy has been replaced with sore.

That's OK though. Just getting ready for what will be coming in a couple of weeks.

What y'all have been waiting to see

Christmas of 1991, I drove from Virginia to my dad's hometown in southwest Georgia. My dad fretted as he often does when I hit the road on my own. To alleviate his stress, I said that I would only drive to Durham alone. From there, I would follow my great aunt and her husband down to Georgia.

Thing is they planned to stay in Georgia less time than I did so I would be doing the drive home alone. I told my relatives that I would see how I felt when I got to Durham. If necessary, I would spend the night with these relatives and head out the next morning. The thing is that that the drive from my dad's hometown to Durham is something like seven hours. And I did at least half the drive in torrential rain. I stopped in Durham for gas and realized that if I didn't keep going, I would never make it home. I was near bone tired and operating on adrenaline. So another three hours later, I arrived home. I was hungry and tired. Tired won. I had no food at home and just didn't have the energy to go out to find some. I awoke the next morning in a pickle. Where were my keys? After a half hour of searching, I found them -- in the front door. That's when I realized just how tired I had been the previous evening.

The next time I took the trip was for Christmas 1997. That time I did the drive via Florence, South Carolina. (I had a friend back then who lived in Florence.) There was also supposed to be a stop in Savannah but my grandmother ended up in the hospital briefly. I felt that it was more important that I spend that extra time with her instead of exploring Savannah. One day I will finally get to Savannah, though.

But y'all don't want to hear about all that. Y'all want to hear about the tiara. First of all, let me say that it is real rhinestones. That thing has weight to it. When I arrived in Georgia, I was relegated to one of my usual family holiday duties -- gift-wrapping. As in, I wrap everyone's gifts except for the ones that are for me. (When I was in high school, my parents would pay me to wrap their gifts. My mother said that I have a way with odd-shaped packages.) My grandmother and my aunts had numerous packages that needed wrapping. Have I mentioned that my dad is one of ten children? My grandmother was not wheelchair-bound at this point so in the daytime, we would talk about food. Prior to her wheelchair days, I would have been helping her with the holiday baking like I did in 1991. At night I wrapped gifts into the wee hours of the night.

It all started that first night of gift-wrapping. I went digging through the bags of wrap and trim and found -- a tiara. My aunt explained the origin of the tiara -- some sort of pageant -- and I promptly set it upon my head. Every night I would pull out the tiara so that I could wear it while I wrapped gifts. Christmas Day it was decided that I should hand out the gifts. "But where is your tiara?" my aunt asked. I found it and put it on. And then handed out gifts and smiled for photos.

I had said during that visit that I would take the tiara home with me. I didn't. Perhaps I should go back for it. Because I've been practicing the hands and all so they don't seem so dead.

Through the ages

I don't know if y'all noticed but a couple of weeks ago I posted a photo of myself. And didn't take it down. First time in three years. Now I'm feeling all kinds of fearless. So now I take you through the evolution of an Empress. I had a hard time choosing photos since I didn't want to overload y'all. This is only about half of what I found. And maybe one day I'll post the photo of me in the tiara. But not today.


My parents have always called this my Stevie Wonder look.


I just couldn't choose -- kind of like the whole divorce thing -- so I knew that both had to be included.


My parents should have taken this as a warning. In my partygirl days, I loved to wear a mini with black knee boots. Don't ask about the rest of the accessories.


Disneyland with mom. Although you can't see her face, I think we both look cute as hell. Even if our clothing would have become one with our skin if it had caught flame.


My typical look in high school.


For a brief while in those days, I turned into something that now reminds me of The Breakfast Club. And yeah, there was a date stamp on the back of the photo. Apparently some time in the last half of my senior year of high school.


College days. The coat did not work with San Diego. My grandma was in the photo with me but I decided to edit her out. Especially since we were sitting across the street from the Bambi Club. My mother thought that this would be a funny photo given that my grandma is hardcore Pentecostal.


One of those perfect days. When I look at this, I feel the peace and ease that I felt that day all over again.


Or maybe I was just recovering in the previous photo since I know that this was from before that day.


I told y'all I used to party a lot. We thought that we were sassy as hell.


Father's Day in San Francisco -- 1995.


My uncle's funeral in 2001 -- right before I stepped on the ant hill.


Family reunion in Alabama in 2004. Sitting in the pool because there were ant hills around. And I remembered my last encounter with an ant hill.

The shocking thing for me is how many photos I found as I went digging through the box. Yes, I have a banker's box filled with photos. I have spent decades running from cameras. But if you want to see photos from my current decade, you're better off checking on other blogs. Because the number of photos for this decade are few and far between.

And why today of all days for this post? Because it's a kind of special day. The kind of day that makes me want to remember where I've been.

Out of the office

And you're thinking to yourself, "Finally. Something new." Because this was from a couple of days ago.

Deuces

I first saw this home several months ago. Every time I pass it at night, I think to myself, "I should take a photo." Then tonight I saw Nat's post that I believe was inspired by Hilly's post. Whatever the case, I ran for the door. Wearing PJ pants. I figured all would be well as I was parked close to the front door. And when I returned? Well, it was so late. And on my return one of my neighbors was standing on the stoop, smoking a cigarette.

"You lost your space."

Not really. I ended up parking in the space I've been in most of the week.

But lost? I have lost too many things to even begin counting.

My cousin's husband should be home from the Middle East in the next week or so. And she'll probably forgive his cheating ass. (The last time that he was stateside, he gave her an STD. Because how else do you say, "I love you"?) I must applaud my cousin for her personal growth. In the past, she would have gone all Lorena Bobitt on his ass.

But the photo is so un-Lorena. It's about the people that I believe that we could be. People who aren't like the society in Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talent.

Bottom line is that I would love to see a true peace in this world. I mean some of you may irritate the hell out of me. Doesn't mean that I wish you ill. (Your thoughts toward me -- or at least my perceptions about your thoughts -- I'll address in another post.) But in the meantime, let's just co-exist.

And while writing this, I suddenly remembered for the zillionth time this week, that this week is the anniversary of Martin's death.

Now that I know

First of all, for those of you who might care. I chatted with the "man" last night. This would be Mr. OKCupid. (Oh, and for those of you worrying that he is merely perpetrating, his end of the conversation was by video. Because he doesn't type well.) We found a common ground. When I mentioned the actress for whom I had been named (Ummm ... did you really think that Dagny was my real name?), he said that she still lived near him. I then was able to say that I knew that she lived in that area because her husband had been in rehab with my dad back when I was in high school. And then he pointed out that we had something in common -- dads who do rehab. But on to the main event...

So it seems that Jolene likes frogs. And she's feeling a little ill these days.


This photo is for her. It was one of the gifts I received after my initiation. I know it isn't as warm and fuzzy as the one you received, but isn't it cute?

Geek central

I spent the weekend at a conference on teaching math. Guess what? There were actually some hot guys there. It didn't hurt that the conference was held at Asilomar either. At lunch on Saturday, Queenie and I hit the beach for a stroll.









Oh, and the food? Friday night had a great dinner at Jose's Bar and Grill in Monterey near Cannery Row. Jose was not present as he is currently in Mexico. Instead we were served by his brother.

Saturday night we hit Fandango. There was wine and conversation. I also had a pretty good cassoulet. Two of the other teachers had the same. One said that she found it to be a bit salty.

On Sunday, Queenie and I had every intention of going to the speakers for the closing of the conference. We kept getting sidetracked in leaving though, and instead decided to hit Cannery Row so that she could find this silver shop that she loves.







Then on the way home, we decided that we also just had to hit the outlet shops in Gilroy. Around this time we realized that we were very hungry. This meant a stop at In 'n' Out.


I always get the #1 (double double) animal style.

Upon returning to the Bay Area, we then headed on over to the TJ's in El Cerrito. Why? Because there are a lot of cute guys shopping and working there. And then we had to hit the Albertson's because Queenie was in need of a restroom. In both stores we were able to see local firefighters shopping. I am still trying to stop drooling.

Well, now it's back to reality. Like making a sub plan for tomorrow. Because I'm going to be at a workshop for the day. This time on building vocabulary skills. And I know that you will be eagerly waiting to hear about it on Wednesday.