Keeping it all in perspective...

This weekend my league smashed it's goal to raise $4,000 towards our skate floor with the most fun event - a Solid Gold Disco skate-a-thon. Like every other walk or run, you could have gotten pledges for laps or just a flat donation. A friend of mine burned 2 hours worth of AMAZING 70's music, about 25 people showed up and we took over the skate floor - kind of. We really just skated some leisure laps around the track, (some made an effort to actually skate a decent amount), stepped over falling children and had to tolerate a mix of disco and modern tween music that kept getting requested when too much disco had been played. Here's some photos from the event:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/67749380@N00/sets/72157602152541185/

We had every intention to go out with some of the skaters (Hell'en Skate, So Sue Me, Cia WoodnWanna-Bia) for "the retros" but landed at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants in Everett (and Seattle for that matter), Gorditos, where Marlene works. Ok, actually she owns the place. She's someone I met in PFM and she now skates on Rat City's Socket Wenches. She's got to be one of the nicest people ever. We meant to go hear music and dance and instead we ate and drank at her restaurant, talked about skating, about plans, life and all of that. It was a great and completely random time.

However, come Monday, work needs to be done and emails need to be answered. My friend Annika IM'ed me from Egypt (where Kelly Rae, Lara and I are going in November!) I have been before and am thrilled to go to Egypt again! When I came back from the Peace Corps (and the first time I went to Egypt), people use to ask me what I wanted to do next? I would say I didn't know, but I hoped one day to be the ambassador to Egypt (of course now I realize I'm sleeping with all the wrong people.) Anyway, we talked about what we had going on in our lives and she resent me the link to her blog: http://stompercat.nomadlife.org/. Oh right - so much going on in the rest of the world! Sometimes you need a little dose of other people's experiences and perspective to remember there is so much else going on... and it's not about your job on Monday....

Some people exchange rings...

Derby Wives Exchange Socks!

It's official - Weed Wack Her and I eloped on Friday, September 14th.

She gave me whale socks.

I gave her spider socks.

It's true derby love.

Here she comes...

Autumn that is. Saturday night was cold crispy rain that smelled like musty leaves even though there are few to be found and rather chilly. This past weekend found me and some friends over in the Olympic Mountains, up in Hurricane Ridge, at a roadside winery (where the original grapes are from Germany) and then over in La Push where I tried to grab a bit of rest before welcoming autumn. We grilled squash, corn, brats, fish - went on small hikes and got to see some "reluctant creatures" bobbing around the ocean. Sea lions were in the turbulent surf as were pelicans. There were other people hanging out in the National Park getting ready to welcome autumn with one last Hurrah!

I took People Magazine (I had two having accidentally grabbed the fall fashion issue), a new book I didn't even crack open and two letters I have been trying to write for weeks - a thank you to a friend that is shamefully late and another - an update to my great aunt who turned 93 this summer and still lives on her own. I finished the People Magazine and wrote the letters where they still sit in my bag, needing a stamp.

I can't say I'm going to miss this summer. Always an optimist, I feel rather ripped off. The weekends were damp and chilly. It never got very "warm" yet alone hot. People have told me that the summers in Seattle are the reason you stay through the 9 months of winter. I've been here for two hellacious winters (one that nearly broke a consistent days of rain record) and one rather glorious summer. And really, if you're not going to have a snowy winter than you should be allotted more sun in the summer!

100 Million Details...

And if you had a magnifying glass in my life you might notice a couple of things that might pass by unnoticed...

My knees are better - I can touch both heals to butt, which if you're use to being able to do this regularly, it's a pretty big, fantastic deal. I can't say that the idea of falling on them is appealing at all but skating, which I've been doing lightly, feels so much better.

Phase II, is the HIV Trial Unit I recently joined. I'm actually in my second month of the vaccine and the most reaction I've had is a dream that my RN, David, pulled all of "us" (I don't know any of the other participants) into a room to tell us that the vaccine wasn't working and the trial was over. That was a dream. It's been pretty easy and I am just hoping beyond belief that this is going to create a positive response. We so need a vaccine...

Derby Girl of the Month - who knew there was such a thing and who knew I would get it! I was completely surprised and flattered - when they were reading the description of the recipient I was thinking, she is great! Ha. I'm honored and thrilled.

The Poor Earth... a friend and I were watching a public TV show about penguins - two icebergs collided and all of these penguins died (read:global warming). Some were crushed, but many more got stuck in deep crevasses and died of starvation and cold - they can't just climb out of deep holes. It was a very sad show and it lead to many conversations about what we can do for the "poor poor Earth". My roommate is getting rid of her penguin killing car (bad emissions); I'm thinking of going back to being a vegetarian (low meat diet); a bunch of us are working on NOT procuring plastic bags... two hurricanes on the same day. Come on, something is going on... and there is something we should try to do about it.

It's all in the details...

Trust me...

That is what Jason, my acupuncturist kept saying to me on Wednesday after work. Trust me. He had gotten my newly dog-biting knee to bend so far back I swear my leg was twisted like a pretzel. Of course, this mantra came after a needle hit the nerve it was supposed to but sent an emotional shock of electricity through my leg and I thought I had kicked him. But I burst into tears instead. It was fine. The whole appointment was great save for that one part. Trust me. And I told him how interesting it was, that my body was learning to trust my knees again. You failed us! You caused us great grief. Now they say trust me. He agreed that was part of the problem of pain - that you are hurt like that and you need to trust your body to do its job again. The whole hour ended up being about trust and I walked up the stairs to my apartment like I usually do, no over compensating in my calves, but just up. And it worked. We were starting to trust each other again.

Tonight at practice we stretched (limited) and I helped with plyometrics... and then I went to put on my skates and I said to my knees, what do you want to do? And they said back to me - we trust YOU. Ok actually, my knees said nothing of the sort but I did come to a compromise with myself - my body needs to trust my knees not to let me fall and bring back that biting dog that so terribly hurt me and my knees need to trust my body not to push too hard. And it worked out. We had a great time together. Not pushing too hard and not going too strong. Just enough - enough so that we, my body and knees, went dancing after practice - at Neighbors for 80's night, which was super fun. I ran into Drew Blood there (who I've danced with before out at clubs) who was just getting back to dancing after cracking vertebrae (4) in her back. Neighbors kicked me out with "Under Pressure" - Queen - Freddie Mercury - which has, in the past made me cry. The logic goes like this: I love Queen. I loved Freddie Mercury. He died of AIDS. I hated the 80's. I hate Ronald Regan (for never, ever acknowledging the problem). Oh God what are we going to do? Then I'm overwhelmed. But tonight it was just my other fabulous teammates, Drew Blood, a shot someone didn't want to drink and my knees trusting me.

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Connie Torturous, the Dog that Bit Me and in love with my knees...

Now, a couple of weeks ago, I was walking down Phinney Ridge (ave), with a volunteer, going to meet with a stylist who was working on an event for Planned Parenthood when a woman leaned out of the passenger window and yellow "Hey Connie!" waving furiously. It was flattering, it was baffling, it was also 11 a.m. on a Friday in Phinney Ridge. The volunteer knew I did roller derby, followed-up with "who was that a fan?" Hmmm... it could have been but I was doubtful "if you put a helmet on her, I'm sure I would recognized her as a derby skater." "So can I call you Connie?" (No, but you can call me Torture like everyone else.) And last week, I found out it was a skater who I knew but who, honestly, I had only ever seen once without her derby gear and uniform. This time we caught each other in a wedding dress (her) and hot little blazin' yellow piece from Mexico (me) to add to the impressions of each other.

Sunday night, a giant pit bull tore off my knee and I screamed in the worst pain ever. Well, ok. Let me explain. It was the last 5 minutes of practice. I had had a "jacked" left knee and a right one that had been injured but had recovered from our last bout. We were doing this light drill that was pretty easy, loads of fun. One of the new skaters was coming through the "pack" and I went to push her out of bounds - half paying attention, not wanting to knock her down (which wasn't the point of the drill) - when she stumbled over a cone and because I was only half paying attention, I went down with her. The pain that shot from my recovered (less jacked) knee was terrifying. I scooted backwards on my butt to get off the rink and stared at my knee like it needed to come off. Like the pit bull that was biting my knee and pulling at it, needed to win, to take off my leg and go away. And I scooted away from my leg (forgetting it was attached) hoping I could just leave it behind. I had to get away from it. But there it was - still attached. Two dozen short breaths, and mumbles of "ohmygodohmygodohmygod" later, the dog walked away. Incredible. Intense. A believe it or not, very little damage. Some angry muscles, a little swelling. But what incredible pain. What an amazing dog.

And what an amazing physical therapist I have, who with some massage, a little bit of ultrasound managed to worked the "jacked" left knee to the point that my heal could reach my butt - the first time in a month. I was thrilled, I did a happy dance - I said I would stretch and do everything (as I have been doing) to take care of it! (The knee with the dog bit needed to calm down before it can be worked on.) I danced, literally, out to the car and then call friends telling them the great news about my knee and how happy I was and how much I loved, loved, loved my knees, and my physical therapist. And derby.

Old Money Wanted

That is what the sign read on the shop outside of my hotel in Boston - which happened to be the oldest (continuously running) hotel in the US - and the oldest in Boston - which is pretty old in US standards. I was there for the Development Officers Conference, which I've attended (in various cities) over the last 5 years. It was, as always, a great week of fundraising workshops (yes, those can be great!), seeing old colleagues and peers, exploring a new city (though I've been to Boston a couple of times) and most importantly, being inspired by my work. This year's speaker was Dr. Kenneth Edelin, "a young, black doctor who arrived in Boston in 1971 to do his residency training in obstetrics and gynecology at Boston City Hospital. In April 1974, when he was three months away from completing his residency, he was indicted on a charge of manslaughter by a secret grand jury." Because he performed abortions legally in the city hospital. Because he was black. Because people didn't like how their city was changing... and he was found guilty.

He brought tears to the eyes of women who have been fighting the fight for decades, he light the fire in the bellies of younger generations who had never heard this story. He was passionate about the plight of poor women, of poor disenfranchised, black and Latino women. He was amazing and he made me feel so good about my job and the work that I do. Incredibly inspired.

On Wednesday, I left the very old city of old money and headed to Vegas - a shiny, sparkly new city in the desert who money is just as Mafia tied as Boston's but has a much shorter history. It's also a city that rebuilds itself every 20 years, pulling off history like an outdated pair of jeans. I feel like I could take a deep breath and blow it down.

I was in Vegas for RollerCon, a roller derby convention with 1,500 participants from all over the world. It was amazing! By 9 a.m. I had down an hour of plyometrics and an hour of skating drills. I would sit by the pool for 20 minutes then rush off to a workshop about sponsorship, rules, merchandise, membership in the the main organization, grab my skates and go to another drills class where I skated backwards for two hours and learned how to do whips. Go back to my hotel, grab a bit (we were always forgetting to eat) and then head off for scheduled bouts between teams like Team World (yes, those from England, Australia, New Zealand) vs. Team USA, East Coast Refs vs. West Coast Refs. Then, with skate bag in tow, head over to the scrimmages where there were two teams - black and white. You pulled on a t-shirt, laced up you skates and headed out onto the track. Phew. Oh, let's not forget the Black and Blue Ball, birthday parties, burlesque, shows, Derby Weddings, etc., that went all night long. It's truly a city that never sleeps.

RollerCon was incredible on so many levels - not only did I get to meet gals from sister leagues all across the country (even got to know some of my Cleveland pals) but I got to be a part of this really fantastic movement of empowering women - of athleticism and entertainment. I got to fill my "bag of tricks" with more ideas and techniques for skating and sisterhood and connections for help. I came away with t-shirts (for my teammates who didn't attend), a bag full of tricks and enough ideas on how to do it better. Truly inspired.

What a weekend!

On Friday, at midnight, book #7 of Harry Potter was released. I was out at a fabric shop picking out material with Suzi for CarnEvil and was too tired to head to a release party - my last chance. I received the first Harry Potter while I was in the Peace Corps. I couldn't understand why my friend, who worked at the Borders where I had worked, sent me a book for 8th graders. My French friends wanted a "simple" English book to read. I have them Harry Potter. They gave it back a month later and said "we didn't understand a thing." So I opened it up to read it and explain it to them... I stayed up all night reading it. When I go back to the States, #2 had been released. I read stayed up all night reading it and would go to bed when my dad was going to work. (His comment was "you need a job Michelle.) #3 came out during my travels across the Midwest. And I've been thrilled to get single book. JK Rowling has grown as a writer with each book, the characters are stronger, they grow up, the plot is complex and dark and with millions of other people across the world, I'm relishing this last book - so sad that it's going to be coming to an end. What a journey.

Today, I finally, finished my rain barrel project for my P-Patch. Up extremely early this morning, I read as much Harry Potter as I could before decided I absolutely had to finish it. I started it at the beginning of the month and didn't have a chance to get back to it - plus I was lacking motivation for reasons that need their own blog posting. Two trips to Home Depot and a lot of help from Lara (both my knees were up in ice last night), my community P-Patch has a rain water barrel system fit for kings - or for very granola crunchy Ballard gardeners.

But all of this is just icing on the cake - for all of these other wonderful things stood in the shawdow of Jet City Rollergirls Expo Season, bout 2! Last night, with relatively few snags, we turned the Everett Skate Deck, once again, into a venue that held hundreds people to watch some fantastic roller derby! My team kicked butt! We had come such a long way since our last expo bout two months ago. I was so proud of all of them, thrilled to be part of such a movement and excited about the future of our league. So many friends who hadn't seen me bout with my team came out and were surprised! There were so many other surprises and though CarnEvil didn't win either game, we had a great time and worked so hard. I even got into a brawl with the Pink Pistols co-captain. We have a great schtick and our fans love us. I managed to jack both of my knees (the left one on Thursday and the right on Friday.)

One comment I truly appreciated last night was "Your team's tenacity will pay off Michelle."

Oh, you bet it will.

Flying Fez, flying flags...

I won the bet with myself - Fez was the first one to fall off the balcony. I came home from practice last night and was on the phone when Fez jump onto the balcony from somewhere - but where? I watched him for a minute and then he jumped off the balcony onto the window ledge of one of my kitchen windows. Of course Fez found a way to get further and higher - that's his nature. I called his name, he jumped back onto the balcony but because he was thrilled and crazy (like cats are) he turned and jumped right back to the ledge, did a triple pirouette (show off) but misjudged his landing and feel off the ledge, three floors, into the bushes below. I got off the phone and went running downstairs where I met my neighbors below (we just saw a cat fall from the sky). He was poofy tailed and shaken but mostly disappointed in his landing. Friday and Monkey came to the edge of the balcony and meowed to him below as he cried and cried... most likely because of his damaged pride.

We need an American flag for our bout this weekend and I just happen to have one - the one used at my grandfather's funeral, folded nicely in a triangle, collecting dust on top of my bookshelf. It's a very nice flag, well made, thick and it means a lot to me because my grandfather meant a lot to me. He served in WWII - 5 years - two campaigns. He was part of intelligence (and if you heard his stories, he was sometimes the only intelligent one.) Played pranks on his buddies, got in trouble with everyone, had something to do with the liberation of Buchenwald, was part of the Battle of the Bulge, had a thousand stories and could make me laugh harder than any other person I've ever known. I wrote an award (small award) winning play about him. He was the best. And I have his flag. And I'm thinking he would LOVE it if I used it during our roller derby bout for the national anthem...

Burnt Grass, Burnt triathalons

The lawns around Seattle have faded to brown, as they do every summer. The great thing about Seattle is the lawns die and come back later - it turns out most lawn die and come back. I'm glad to live in a city whose residents' priorities do no include watering lawns - because it's HOT. Hot for Seattle seeing that it's going to reach a whopping 90 degrees tomorrow. Not Midwest hot but definitely Seattle hot.

And in the heat of the summer, drinks after work (when not at practice), sunsets at Golden Gardens, roller skating outside, walks around Greenlake, and the occasional work meeting, I've done nothing for my triathlon training except run after skating practice. With 6 weeks left, a trip to Boston and Vegas and a hundred other things that are far more interesting to do (like read the new Harry Potter book!), the triathlon has become a donation to breast cancer. It wasn't a lifetime goal and I don't like doing things half-assed. I don't feel bad for bailing on it - I'll do it next year when I actually make it a priority - or not. Like the lawns.

You should be dancin' - Yeah!

Saturday night after a BBQ with my team, a group of derby gals, with a at least one other thing in common, went out dancing. It was Juice - world music themed - benefiting Darfur at the Baltic Room. It started off a bit slow with the DJ just not quite spinning the right combination and only a few people on the floor willing to brave what came next. The crowd kept coming and eventually a new DJ took the table and I found myself dancing to samba mixed with hip-hop, electronica with a touch of Middle East pop, crowds of people mashed on the dance floor and it was hot - but so much fun - to be out dancin! I loved it and I missed it. In a conversation on my way out close to 1 a.m. a guy said to me when I explained that Juice happened once a month - You only come out once a month? - which I would like to have said - no - I come out every weekend. But I can't quit say that just yet...

Happy 231st birthday!

I participated in my first 4th of July parade as the Jet City Rollergirls rolled down Colby, shouting "Happy 4th" and cheering for the fans, (who were cheering for us.) It was super fun to be with such a passionate group of gals. The parade was short - barely a mile - but long enough for me to get oddly shaped sunburns through the elbow pads on my arms.

I went back home to Seattle, took a few laps around Greenlake before heading back up to Edmonds for a tiki BBQ at my friend Sassy's house whose backyard had been tikified and all of her friends were part of the rockabilly crowd. After some tasty Mai Tais, dips, pies, tiny kee-bobs, and watching a bigger small dog try to snack on a mini-small dog, we headed back to Seattle to pick of my friend Christy - who I knew as a volunteer at Planned Parenthood in Cleveland. She had emailed me periodically over the years to tell me of her many adventures and recently she said she would be landing in Seattle. I told her to call and she did!

We picked her up and dashed off to another BBQ on Dexter, where the grill ran out of gas (but just as my brats were done grilling), overlooking Lake Union where one of the best fireworks show in the city was. It was like having a seat in the center row of the auditorium. We got to see it all. (Fantastic!) Traffic took forever (taking Christy back to her rented room in Capitol Hill) and I crashed out having had one of the best 4th of Julys in a very long time.

One of those days...

where the stars seemed to collide, the planets weren't aligned and I'm sure my horoscope said Good Luck! Read me tomorrow! And you know, nothing serious happened, nothing worth writing about but still one of those days... and here's one of the things that made me particular exasperated:

http://www.slate.com/id/2168758/

More photos from my starring role as gonorrhea!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67749380@N00/sets/72157600480505137

Woo hoo Gonorrhea!

Today was my first appearance in the Pride Parade, starring as Gonorrhea for the Planned Parenthood entry. We were a melody of STDs and a giant condom. The condom would go erect, then the diseases would try to attack and would be repelled back. I had the special place of being gonorrhea on roller skates to boot!

It was packed - hundreds? Thousands of people lined 4th Avenue in downtown Seattle. We threw bracelets to the crowds that read "Love Carefully", which followed our message of Safe Sex is Sexy printed on our bright pink shirts. I crashed into another gonorrhea at one point and about half way through we ran out of bracelets and condoms.

I ran into some of my roller derby pals at the Seattle Center where the Parade ended, ate a gyro, corn-on-the-cob and listed to club music before taking the bus back downtown to get my car. I love parades and I was quite proud to be in this one...

UFOs and such...
When I saw this comic the other day in the Seattle Times, I laughed out loud - on the bus. I remembered an incident, that makes my father laugh to this day, that occurred when I was walking home my friend Jeni Taylor. Her house was about a mile away off of of ol' state route 422. My street, the last street before her house, was a new neighborhood, essentially a street carved into old farm land. (And I mean old, it had everything you would expect in the woods like rusted nails, random barbed wire fences, old mattresses on the edge of the field, which was where our house was.)

In the summer time, she would come over to my house to hang out. In the 6th grade, we had a 9 p.m. curfew which meant it was dark in NE Ohio and undoubtedly hot and muggy. One night I was walking Jeni home, or atleast to the end of my street where she had to walk about 500 ft on the busy state road - often her Dad was often waiting for her at the end of their driveway. (Um, which is why I never "snuck out" -where the hell was I going to go? Into the woods with rusty nails? To the neighbors house with little kids? Until you drove, you were ISOLATED). We were heading to her place and it got progressively darker as we reached 422 as there were few houses at that end of the street - and no streetlights. Off in one of the old barns, there was a blinking orange light. In the barn. A blinking orange light. We looked at it for a minute and walked a little further trying to figure out what it was? A blinking orange light. Then our 6th grade minds races off - there could only be one thing in that barn - an alien. Holy crap.

We went back to my house, doing our best not to break off into a dead run, and searched for my dad. We didn't know what to tell him, so we told him the true. "There's an alien in the barn by the road." Of course the meant that he wouldn't drive Jeni home - he had to go check it out. (Damn!) He walked down the street and I think at one point we both might have grabbed his hands (long after it was cool to hold hands with your parents) and as we approached the barn, my dad looked for the blinking light..pause... Girls, it's just a construction barrel with a light on it...

Whatever. It totally was an alien. He just left before we were able to get back to the barn.

SNIFF, sniff

Tonight was my last SIFF volunteer shift. As my friend Katie stated and I concurred, it's a lot like summer camp. Last year, my first year, was fantastic! I saw 27 films, volunteered a gazillion hours, made tons of friends, went to parties and still managed to skate and have a great time! This year, volunteering was fun but I moved, had a wedding (in Mexico) right in the middle of the festival, saw only three films and just couldn't get my schedule to work out as well as I would have liked - though I did come out of it with one new friend - who is going to put together a circus workshop for my team.

I have the SIFF guide and some ideas of some films to watch... and next year to go back to summer camp again.

Pictures from the wedding...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67749380@N00/sets/72157600349710376/show/

The Most Romantic and Beautiful Wedding Ever...

Claudia's and Justin's wedding was the most wonderful wedding - it was like being in a movie where Pacabel's Canon played over their vows, the sun broke through the clouds just in time for a sunset, the bride flirted endlessly during the Jewish ceremony and every single person danced. I'm sure I've seen this film and it was just as magical in real life.

Friday night's reception with the out-of-town guests (which was honestly everyone - 131 of us) started off this film. There was incredible food, mole pollo, beans, rice, the most delicious guac, coke and rums (or shots of tequila), a 12 piece mariachi band who played the most incredible music, more dancing, eating, meeting new people and leaving the rehearsal dinner at midnight to go have more drinks at a tequila bar before crashing out at 3:30 a.m. The bright sunshine on Saturday morning only begged for a bottle of water and aspirin (but it could have been much worse.)

I walked around town with my "roommate" Brandi whose starting residency for anaesthesia next week. We ate lunch at an organic, environmental restaurant (yep, even in Queretaro) where I learned all about her med school experience, the challenges that Claudia and other's trying to enter difficult fields such a dermatology faced. (They did not get residencies this summer as they wanted to be placed together. Justin's choice as an OB/GYN (who does abortion) has him in high demand where Claudia's choice in dermatology has her in severe competition.) We bought a couple of souvenirs (these fun little dolls) for our nieces and goddaughters made by the some of the more poor rural women who would come into town to sell their tourist tchotchkes. She reminded me of the dress that I was interested in buying and one look, she said, You have to get it- you'd regret it otherwise. And I did. Bright yellow. It was lively and more exciting than the other two I had brought along for the occasion.

We made it to the church just before 5 p.m. Storm clouds were brewing and wind whipped up leaves and dust - which it had done the night before but had amount to nothing. As soon as Claudia and her parents started down the isle, the rain came pouring down - loud. We listened to the ceremony in Spanish while glancing nervously at the down pour. Just as the bride and groom where on their second or third kiss, they shooed us out into the clearing sky. A few sprinkles and a few bubbles later, Claudia and Justin came bursting out and into their dressed up ancient car while we loaded up in to buses to head out to a "hacienda" (ranch) on the out skirts of town for the Jewish ceremony and reception.

The bus ride was longer than we expected but the results were gorgeous! This former hacienda spread out over acres of beautiful land. There was an incredible marble veranda with stone column fountains. Stepping out of the bus, we were greeted with cocktails and appetizers and a sunset. When the sun was finally down, the sabbath over, we started with the Jewish wedding. The hoopa was made by both of the mothers and beautiful. At one point in the ceremony, the bride makes circles around the husband (to seal the relationship, build a protective wall, etc.) and Claudia turned it into a flirty, seductive dance around him which had all of us laughing. The rabbi (whom everyone thought Justin flew in from St. Louis but was really just from one town over) told stories about them as a couple, they broke the glass and we headed into the actual "house" for the dinner.

The evening could haven't been more magical and we hadn't even started dancing! Another 10 piece band (complete with two dancers) played modern Latina musica, covered the Bee Gees, Gloria Gaynor, and other wedding favorites. After the initial dances of the bride and groom, parents, the party started. Nearly everyone was on the dance floor and something I had never seen before - the band brought props - every half hour or so. First there were balloons, then masks, paper glasses, straw cowboy hats, hands (on a stick) - it was hilarious. We drank all of the wine, liqueur, ate the cake and when the buses came to get us at 1:30 a.m. (the staff was tearing down the tables) no one wanted to leave. They finally stopped the music and we finally left...

Sunday morning, an exhausted but still very festive crowd showed up for "brunch" which of course was as much food as we had had at ever single other meal - we wished the bride and groom off (for three weeks in Italy.) The weekend wasn't over - a community orchestra who covering Sinatra tunes invited people to dance in the town square, a bit of shopping for super fun party shirt, dinner with some of the friends and a late night beer (finally - a beer) with some of the bridal party to capped off the weekend and the most fabulous wedding ever.

The perfect conversation...

I slept hard and woke up remembering that I was on a completely different spot on the globe. I was slow to rise and snagged a bit of the ¨contintential breakfast¨of toast and instant coffee. I love instant coffee when I´m traveling - it reminds me of traveling... I dropped my bag off at my next hotel where I´m staying for the wedding festivities and hit the streets. I´m considering getting a bright orange dress for the wedding tomorrow as I brought a brown dress and the classic black cocktail but not thrilled with either of them. I visited parks, read my lonely planet, bought another pluma (pen) and found a little hole in the wall where I tried to order pollo mole enchaladas. It was completely comical as we couldn´t understand each other and she was asking me how many orders did I want and I kept telling her lemonade. Finally we decided she could revert to Ingles and I would answer in espanol and it worked. She loved my fish tattoo and when I finished my lunch the cook came out to talk to me.

He spoke English having spent the first 12 years of his life in New York City - his father moved the family back here to Queretaro when he was 12 and has hated him since then. He doesn´t like it here but has a plan to get back to the US. Because he was born there, he´s a citizen and he´s going to finish high school, work for a year, get his passport and go to college in the US. We talked about Queretaro, school, the funny things his parents use to do. (One time, they told me to get in the car, we were going somewhere. I told my friends I would be right back... 5 days later. My parents took us to Disney World. That was fun.) I told him about the wedding I was going to and how Mexico was sooooo clean compared to Africa, for example. (That was the only way I was able to excuse myself for not knowing Spanish - most of my travels were in Africa and the Middle East, not Mexico.) I told him I definitely wanted to come back. I paid my bill and left him a $10 bill (american dollar) and told him to save it towards his passport. I honestly thought he was going to cry. Good luck! We shook hands and I went across the street to the art museum of Queretaro.

It was the perfect conversation, not because he wanted to go back to the States but because we could actually converse, make jokes, talk about things. He was local who spoke English. I was remembering my trip to Cuba last night and it was fun to have a travel companion. However, my travel partner did not want to go out and meet ¨the local people¨- he was content to hang out with touristas. I am not. I need to talk to people, anyone, just about life, how things are here (where ever I may be), the issues, problems, joys, etc. It made me happy.

The art musuem was great - lots of pictures of Jesus and a modern section, that they were painting (had taken the art and put it on the floor). There were nets to keept the birds out of the square. The city is designed a lot like old Jerusalem or what I imagine Italy would be like. The streets are tight and one-way but open into patios, restaurts, shops, etc. It´s a whole other world behinds the doors.

A frog in my mouth... I arrived in Queretaro after two flights, a 2 hour bus ride and taxi to my hostel. The last time I was in a Spanish speaking country I had practice for three weeks before hand, had a traveling companion and felt more confident in my ability to speak. This time around, a variety of things kept me from hitting the language CDs (out first bout, the film festival, work, moving, etc.) and I find that I have a frog in my mouth - when all esle fails, I revert to French. Which isn´t Spanish. Close - but not really. And it´s kind of funny. And it´s completely frustrating - like having a frog in your mouth, chewing on words, trying to find what you want to say and lacking the knowledge... in Spanish. However, I found my hostel (whose ´return´key on the computer doesn´t work) and made my way down to the centro historico where there was a parade! Something was going on with the church. There was also a live band a huge sign about campaign to preventi cervical and breast cancer. I got ripped off, my one time that I allow per country, from a street vendor (who charged me the correct amount but then wanted a tip and when I offered the small coins I had, he took 3 times the cost of the meal, forturnately, I´m allowed to get ripped off - once.) But I didn´t care about the street vendor, as I was more interested in the parade, the people dancing in the historic square, and how much I didn´t quit stand out. Quite a modern city. I´ll be glad to explore the city more tomorrow and meet up with Claudia and her friends too.

Wonderlustful...

I leave for my first foray into Mexico on Thursday for Claudia and Justin's wedding. I've never been to Mexico and not for any good reason besides that I just wasn't interested - my heart lies in Africa and the Middle East...(though I salsa danced - a mix of son - Mexican music and Jazz - for almost 10 years and in my music collection the number of cds in Spanish is second to those in Portuguese. After pouring over my Mexico Lonely Planet guidebook this weekend, I can't wait to go!

Last night I booked a first night in a hostel in Queretaro (I have a couple of nights in a hotel for the wedding). I am looking forward to having to be "awake" because you don't know the language, culture, where you're going, etc. I'm looking forward to eating "street food" and going out in the evening. It's going to be a great time!

It's going to be 85 degrees the whole time... and raining.

The Things We Carry...

The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wristwatches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military Payment certificates, C rations, and two or tree canteens of water. Together, these items weighted between 15 and 20 pounds, depending upon a man's habits or rate of metabolism... (from Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried.)

Franz Kafka's, The Castle, which I have never read, made it thru a fire and a trip across the county before I picked it up last week in my move and asked "why is this book coming with me? I have never read it, I probably won't and I can get the exact same translation from the library." I thought, as I looked at the small amount of stuff I had to move 10 blocks to my new apartment, why did I bring these things, why did I carry these things across 7 states when they were not "the necessities" or even the "near-necessities". Tim O'Brien's book, The Things They Carried, did make it across the county. Some books made it to and from West Africa. A few bit of jewelry made it from my childhood to now. Clothes I've kept through a few seasons (if they're not worn more than two in a row then they go to Goodwill), some letters, plays and my art. But when I look at it all, what are the important things we carry in our lives? Some of it was packed in boxes and moved to my beautiful, spacious, bright new apartment. Most of the things I value are not able to packed into a box - ever.

I love...

The Seattle International Film Festival which started this week. I love volunteering for it. I love going through the schedule, both online and through the book, and picking out films I absolutely have to see. I love the crazies that show up year after year (true of just about everything I do). I love the opportunity to see a story that I would never have the chance in the "mainstream" cinemas.

Last year, Kelly Rae and I saw a film that might be one of the best films I have ever seen - Gravehopping- it came from Slovenia and it was hilarious, charming, tragic, horrible and brilliant. I managed to see 27 films last year (not all like Gravehopping) of the hundreds offered at the festival.

There are a million stories all over the world and some of them get to be told thru film. One of my favorite directors is from Mauritania (is that a country? um, yes. The Moors, you know, from Northern Africa... oh yea) and he has a new film this year that I'm sure is going to be as great as the one I saw at FESPACO (Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougou) in 1998. I've been participating in and volunteering for festivals for a long time and I love every single part of it from loosing track of time because you've seen three films in a row, to loosing a sense of physical being because you've been volunteering and on your feet all day, to loosing your sense of self because you have been inspired, shocked, awed or moved by a story go you got to see.

I LOVE the film festival. And between roller derby, volunteering, roller derby, work (oh yeah), moving and a wedding in Mexico - that is where you'll find me.

Sometimes....

You forget to write about things that you spent the whole week talking about.... being exhausted, excited and thrilled about.

This past weekend, that occupied all of the chatter at my work, for so many of my coworkers had come out to participate, was the first Jet City Roller Girls expo (mini) bout. The four teams on the league played each other for a series of 15 minute "bouts"(games). It was one of those evenings that went off without a problem (besides not winning) and seemed to have a dash of luck everywhere. At 3 p.m. when we arrived, there was a tent set up for the skaters, our very own "greenroom" complete with very healthy and tasty snacks. There was a lot of hurry-up-and-wait as the Everett Skate Deck had their public skate going on. At 4:30 p.m. there were still 100 little kids skating around. We had to transform the rink into a entertaining venue that could seat 700 people (!) for we had sold out. And we did!

It went by so fast - as I expected that it would. CarnEvil lost both bouts but only by a jam or two (meaning if we had had 4 more minutes we could have come back.) Suffice it to say, it was great fun and below are links to photos taken from the bout.

Because I've been talking about it all week.

http://www.blauphotography.com/jcrg-051207/

www.flickr.com/photos/type2b/sets/72157600211232880/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/narra99/sets/72157600220063110/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jetcityrollergirls/sets/72157600223559929/show/

While driving...

Starting July 1st, you can get a very expensive ticket in Washington for driving while talking on the phone. This annoys me for I drive up to Everett for practice and sometimes have my best conversations in the 25 minutes it takes to get up there. I'm always willing to hang up or put my phone down when I need both hands and I consider myself a really good driver. Today, on my way into work, I decided I would see what everyone else does in their car to distract them besides talking on the phone.

There was a woman behind me (then besides, in front and back behind me) who was putting on her make-up and it wasn't just a little lipstick and blush, she had a full makeover going in her car; a Comcast driver next to me was smoking; another man was eating his McMuffin and talking on the phone and another woman had her convertible top down clearly enjoying the morning sunshine in Seattle. There were very few other distracted drivers (besides the one watching everyone else who was possibly a bigger hazard.)

I turned off Broadway onto Pine, jogging through some other morning thoughts in my head (having decided that people weren't all that distracted) when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone running to my car - my heart started racing - were my doors locked? Who is the person trying to get into my car while I'm at a stop light (right by the police station!). As soon as I had addressed my safety in the situation I found myself trying to unlock my doors and move the CDs off the passenger's seat as it was my very good friend Louise. She hops in the car and in the same breath, "Sorry, Michelle. I knew this would freak you out. I missed my bus and was going to be late when I saw your car and thought, Go for it! But it's totally going to freak her out." Did it ever.

And adding to the theme this morning was the CNN article about road rage - Seattle being rated as one of the nicest (though we often call it passive/aggressive) drivers in the country.

Dreaming in Spanish....

Actually I dreamt that I was thinking in French and translating it into Spanish because for some reason in my head it was easier to go from French to Spanish than English to Spanish. And it was a complicated conversation - not like "where is the bathroom" but more like "the state of the economy in southern Florida..." Oy. My subconscious was telling me I had better get that hotel room booked for Claudia's wedding in June - in Mexico City (actually north of the city.) And so I did - this morning - with the help of a colleague who most likely dreams in Spanish and enjoys any opportunity to speak it.

This evening, my team, CarnEvil met at Pounders to sell merch, promote our upcoming bout and just hang out. It was a great time with the band giving us plenty of shout-outs and the owner wanting us to come back (we will!) This Saturday is our league's "friends and family" mini-expo bout. It's an opportunity to get a sneak peak at who we are and give the community an idea of where we're going. And I would be so excited but there are a million details - ok, maybe only 200,000 but enough to keep one's mind focused on things like bleachers and programs. I'm sure I'll be psyched about it at like 5:35 p.m. on Saturday - after the doors have opened at 5:30 p.m. I'm sure I'll be super excited then.

The Full Moon is the mother of all children

is how the saying went in Cote d'Ivoire when there was a full moon hanging in the sky. Kids would stay out all night and play – you could hear their laughter until well after midnight. Everyone generally stayed up just a little later – it wasn’t quite so dark – casting all kinds of shadows. In the retail/service world, when “the public” would start to get slightly crazy it would only take a second before someone would run to the back office to check the calendar – sure enough it was a full moon.

The full moon last week wreaked havoc - permeating many relationships– many break ups, separations, sick children, (even a natural disaster) and a general sadness that came in more bunches than 3’s. (There were a couple of humorous incidents that could also have been blamed on the “fool” moon.). At the end of some of these sad evenings, you had to wonder if there wasn’t something to all the mythology about the moon.

Luckily, it’s just a phase.

A quiet month for writing...

of course that doesn't mean I don't have anything to say as I generally have an opinion about everything - whether or not you want to know about it. Lately my late nights have been filled with derby doings and conversations about other things - enough that they haven't made their way to my blog. But that will change soon enough...

I can keep that promise.

A whirlwind tour home, a p-patch and helmet panties...

I went home on Friday, April 13th for the peanuts' 2nd birthday! I arrived at my brother's house around midnight - just in time to play wii bowling with brother-in-laws and stay up until 5 a.m. engrossed in conversation about a lot of nothing-important but important just the same. Saturday was running errands and actually throwing a party for two very fabulous tw0-year olds. With utter bias, they have to be two of the most well behaved toddlers I know... when you tell them they have to open their presents later, they actually listen... Sunday evening I zoomed up to Cleveland to meet some friends out for dinner and later some more friends for drinks. Everyone on Monday, was seriously, scheduled for two-hour visits starting at 10 a.m. It was kind of crazy, kind of fun and the easiest way to see a gazillion people. Tuesday morning I was zooming back down to Cinci to catch my 1 p.m. plane back to Seattle - 8 hours of driving for 20 hours of Cleveland... totally worth it.

This Sunday I was introduced to my P-Patch. We were having a P-Patch meeting and it was very easy to tell which one was mine - the one growing very robust dandelions and grass. A fellow p-patcher helped me weed it down to a reasonable brown dirt as I volunteer to figure out a way to properly get the water barrel system set up. This weekend are plans for mint, cilantro, basil, carrots and other delicious starters to find their way into my patch.

But tonight I am sewing helmet panties for my team. Yes, they're called helmet panties - which might be the funniest word to say - even. They're the covers used in roller derby to denote who is the pivot (with a stripe) and who is the jammer (with a star). I made a bunch for our league for scrimmaging but now we need them in team colors, etc. I'm making them for my team and the Honeys. (The photo indicates that JoJo Stiletto's helmet is the jammer - photo by Jules from this past weekend's RCRG bout.) The thing about sewing it that it taps into that incredible creative energy. I could easily stay up the entire night and sew - without ever getting tired. I love it.

The Pho Revolution

I have finally joined the pho revolution - the phase where people decide that they are completely in love with soup containing beef and noodles originally from Vietnam. My friends tell me at work how they were addicted to it at first - or that's all they ate in college - or they know the 5 top pho places in Seattle. The first time I tried pho was at #1 Pho in Cleveland's "Chinatown". And I couldn't stand it. I am barely a meat eater and ordering one of the most popular dishes meant raw meat. I looked at it in my soup, poked at it and decided I couldn't eat it. I tried to drink the broth and in the end, decided this was not the food for me. No thanks. I barely like soup (my dislike of salt is at the root of this problem.) Pho is not for me.

Fast forward 4 years or so and I find myself in Seattle, where like lots of west coast cities I can find more pho varieties than I imagined possible (but I'll be damned if I can find a good Lebanese deli!) I wasn't interested. If we went to a pho place for a meeting, I had anything but pho. Not raw beef, gross noodle soup for me. A friend convinced me to try Pho Cycle in Capitol Hill and I tried a non-soup dish and tried some of hers. She told me the point to the raw meat was to let it cook in the steaming hot soup (oh!). Finally, early in December, at the beginning of my getting sick, I decided I would drink up some soup to avert my illness and tired pho - veggie pho and it was fantastic! I created my own special designs with the hot sauce and oyster sauce (I makes stars in my soup with each one.) I'm sure to add the lime and lots of basil and now I rather enjoy it - the veggie one that is.

Friday night, that beautiful evening, I had pho. I had it again on Sunday when it was cold and rainy and last night (starting to feel under the weather again.) Three times in one week. I've joined the pho revolution!

Easter...

Happy Easter! Or happy sunny Sunday (morning at least) or if you're sittin' miserable in the Midwest, brrrrrr. I heard on Friday that the Cleveland Indian's Home Opener was snowed out. The double header then scheduled for Saturday was snowed into a triple header for Sunday when in the end, Cleveland just has to invite the Seattle Mariners back another day. So while I was enjoying an 80 degree Friday worth going home for, people where going home early to avoid snarled traffic.

A couple of my friends and I were talking about Easter and their rituals around it. A lot of hidden eggs and candy - mostly outside. This picture reminds me maybe of an Easter or two in my childhood where there was snow, but our candy was hidden throughout the house and not outside so we were never scrounging around in snow, or wet grass. One of the best Easters ever was when we were driving home from visiting our grandparents in Denver to West Virgina over Easter. My brothers and I fell asleep in the car (it's like a 2 day drive so that happened often) and when we awoke the Easter Bunny had been to see us - in the car! We were shocked and amazed to see the candy he had left. When I asked my dad what happened, he said he saw the Easter Bunny hitchhiking on the side of the road so he gave him a lift. I couldn't believe it! And I couldn't believe he didn't wake any of us up for it.

Sunshine - we're all drunk.

Today was the third day of sunshine and the warmest by far. Today was a day that people left work early or were dismissed by their bosses because it was so beautiful out. Today was a day that native Seattleites said to transplants "this is the reason you're here - right?" Those same native Pacific Northwesterns say things like "You'd think after 46 years (his whole life) I would get use to never seeing the sun. But I just feel so much better. Don't you feel better?"

Today was a day, after leaving work early because my boss told me too (plus I'm working tomorrow), I skated at Myrtle Edwards Park (on the Sound - beautiful!) and skated and skated. I would have skated for hours looping up hills, around bikers and other wheeled people - if I wasn't completely starving after an hour (forgot snacks.) I couldn't get enough sun. I went and washed my car (amazingly popular Friday evening activity when it's 70 degrees.) I had a snack and on such a day, couldn't find a way to want to do laundry - just yet. I walked to my P-Patch. Kids were out playing, people were walking around everywhere. I ran into my friends Dani and Derika. I wanted to dig in the dirt (but I didn't know which patch was mine.) It was a beautiful day and became a beautiful evening... and for once I had nothing planned - except for enjoy the sunshine.

AIDS Trails, Pea Patches and things we can do.

I was allotted a P-Patch today! It's 10'x10' only 8 blocks from my apartment! For those of you who don't know, a P-Patch is an urban/community garden plot. There are all of these community gardens all across the city and I signed up for one last spring/summer. Of course I was too late to get in on it last year and I barely made the registration deadline this fall (I called in on Friday at 5:30 p.m. after offices were closed) but I got in and today was awarded my very own spot! (I love dirt!) The funny thing is I don't come from a family of gardeners. My mother always assigned me to weeding the flowerbeds as one of my chores and after griping about it enough, I eventually found great peace and quiet in weeding. (It was funny, she asked me a few summer ago how I became so good with plants and I sighed - all of those summer you made me weed, I read the little tabs with the plants and learned about them.) So now I have my own patch, with community tools to share... I can't wait to plant basil, carrots, tomatoes, peas... yum!

A month ago a community educator from the HIV Vaccine Trails Unit spoke at the PPWW Young Professionals meeting. He was dynamic and passionate, hilarious and charming, in his enthusiastic speech about the HIV Vaccine Trail. I had seen a bus ad for it when I first moved to Seattle, read more about it at the AIDS Walk in the summer and it wasn't until I heard David talk about it that I remembered I was so interested in it. I decided a few weeks ago to volunteer for it. You are not given a live virus or even a dead one. Three (3) pieces of man-made DNA are spliced into another virus (common cold) and you are injected with it to see if your body builds any kind of response to it. It was a year long study and I thought, I am, sadly, NEVER going to be a research scientist and find a cure for this horrible disease that has seemingly impacted so much of my life from growing up in the 80's to its horrible effects on my communities in the Peace Corps. so I might as well volunteer for a possible vaccine - at the very least.

It turns out that I am short on Adenovirsus antibodies (which mainly cause respiratory infections) which mean NOTHING about my general health as anything 2/3 of Americans don't have them (but they wanted volunteers with these antibodies present for this study). So I'm going to have to wait until July to become a part of another study. In some respects, as a healthy young woman, its the very least I can do.

Some people find it courageous to do something like be a part of a vaccine study... but there are a million things we can do like eat tasty meals at our local restaurant and Dine Out for Darfur which in Seattle will be held on Tuesday, April 3rd. I don't have a scheduled skate practice that night so some friends and I are going to go out and eat... not from the P-Patch just yet, but for an even better cause.

B-I-N-G-O! On a quiet weekend...

Woo hoo! I was a bingo winner on Friday at the Grave Danger fundraiser for their Chicago trip. I was out to support my friends Skate Trooper, Sara Problem (always) and other GD members and play bingo. I love to play games (especially if there are prizes involved that I can win!) And I did win (promptly started screaming and forgot to yell bingo at first). It was great fun and great to hang out with some pals (Jeremy, Katie and Katie) that I hadn't seen in a while.

Saturday started with Internet problems that I tried to fix by "contacting your local administrator" who happens to be my brother. It turns out my provider was down which forced me down to one of my favorite coffee shops where I drank in my own brand of sunshine (Americanos) before going to the gym to start my new routine. (Before I had Internet at home, I spent many hours in coffee shops, writing emails, drinking coffee, being out and about.) Then it was off to another Kelly Rae Cunningham art opening followed by a birthday party and late dinner in Eastlake - the Eastlake Bar and Grill has revamped their late night happy hour menu. (It's sad that I know these things).

Sunday was sunny and spring. I grabbed Lara and headed over to Coffee at Bird on a Wire in West Seattle for coffee, breakfast and chatter with my skate coach Nate - then over to Discovery Park for a hike - which felt fantastic to be out in the sun. We went down to the ocean where it was low tide and looked for "reluctant creatures" and found a tiny dungess crab and a hermit crab. Two crabs and birds. No star fish or little fish in the tide pools. But it was nice to be reminded how small we are in the grand scheme of things.

And of course, to win at BINGO.

Traffic, Thunder Storms, 4th Dimensions

I know I've griped about this before but I honestly don't understand the traffic patterns here in Seattle. It took me over an hour to get to Everett on Friday at 3 p.m. (not rush hour) and two hours later it took 25 minutes. It's hard to understand where everyone is going and why they all decide to go the same place at the same time. Sundays at 1 p.m. going into the city is nearly impossible but who knows when rush hour really starts on Friday. Today was an easy Monday drive into work (didn't get up in time for the bus) and other Monday's I've sat in traffic for 40 minutes. I truly, just don't understand it. Where is everyone going? And why?

I dreamt about thunderstorms the other night. I was flying in an airplane to Cleveland and could see the thunderstorm as we approached the city - fantastic lightening! I was slightly nervous (I've flown in one thunderstorm and it was incredibly rough) but so thrilled to see the lightening. There aren't thunderstorms out here. The temperatures aren't extreme enough to create the volatile reaction when a cold and warm front collide. They're missed.

I do have to add though, the 4th dimension, opened up by my landlord when he added a pipe to the bathroom has been an incredible source of entertainment for the kitty friends. I KID YOU NOT, they are in the bathroom when I come home from work, looking at the hole in the wall, receiving life instructions of some sort. Monkey jumps in the bathtub and then darts down the hall. Sometimes they sleep in the bathroom. It's hilarious. It's crazy. I wonder what the hole in the wall is telling them.

Clearly, my life is full of mystery right now.

Green Jello, Car bombs and Sunshine

Green Jell-O, used in wrestling is a bitch to clean-up but it makes for a nice gentle medium for wrestling - which is what some of my league mates subjected themselves to in the name of derby on Friday. I did not (as I quit wrestling when my brother was one day suddenly able to beat me.) I sold Jell-O shots (from the fridge, not from the "pit"), t-shirts and other stuff. Talked up the league, hung out with friends and after clean up the bar, found myself eating Denny's at 4 a.m. - which is really the only time you need to eat Denny's.

Car bombs are truly evil though they makes for great St. Patty's day drinks - with your friends. A group of us decided to celebrate St. Patty's day - me - who use to do anti-St. Patty day events in Cleveland (the land of Irish Catholic)... had a great time at a non-Irish bar drinking cocktails with names that reminded us of Ireland's less joyful days.

Sunshine is delicious and it one of the great things about Spring in Seattle - um yes - it's spring in Seattle. I skated on Myrtle Edwards in the sun with daffodils, cherry blossoms, magnolias, all of the wonderful things. I never thought I would love March.

Contact Origami....

Every once in a while I get a message on my cell phone that goes:
Michelle, what is contact origami?
Michelle, am I missing out on a new phenomenon - what is this contact origami?

However most people leave their message without listening to the message on my cell (which changed when I was chastised for the lack of variety in language.) For those of you who want to know, here is where the idea came from... an essay I ran across while working for the literary magazine at the University of Iowa. It's brilliant:

http://www.english.upenn.edu/~cjacobso//appess.html

This is actually an essay written by a college applicant when applying to colleges/universities.
----------------
The author of this essay, Hugh Gallagher, now attends NYU

3A. ESSAY: IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?


I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.

I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But I have not yet gone to college.

Dead mice...

End up in the water bowl. Nearly every time I come home from work... there's a pink one, or green, yellow sometimes a ball or two. This is all Monkey's doing. She's really the only one who plays with these things.

Fez and I just watch her - curiously.

However, as I write this, both of my cats are in the bathroom staring at the portal to the Fourth Dimension that was revealed when the landlord put in a magic pipe.

Curious.

Indeed.

Voodoo, Volunteering and Dirt

Friday I succumb to my frustrating fatigued and on the advice of my friends and colleagues, I went to the witch doctor to get stuck with pins. Ok, I went to an acupuncturist - one that pretty much my whole department and then some have seen. I was lucky enough to get a visit in before he left for two weeks for China.

I not a skeptic - honestly. I'm a big fan of the "body is your temple" and you need good physical health to have good mental health and vise versa. He asked me if I had ever gone to an acupuncturist and I laughed "where I come from we call it Voodoo." He asked me where I was from - I told him Cleveland. He was from Louisville and we immediately had that Ohio connection (Louisville is right across the river from Cinici.) He told me about what the Chinese believed. We talked about how long I had been under the weather and what he thought it might be and then he stuck some pins in me. I barely noticed them. He massaged a few knots in my neck and talked to me about circulation (how the tension was blocking blood flow and consequently not allowing my sinuses to clear up.) He suggested that I eat a warm breakfast (oatmeal instead of yogurt) and how really we were looking at healing my organs (digestive, liver, respiratory). A few more pins, a few deeps breaths and an hour later I walked out feeling a little bit better with a bottle of dirt (ok, their herbs but it tastes like dirt tea) I headed out with high hopes for the next 48 hours.

I finished Friday off having beers (more than one) with friends I hadn't seen in a while and woke up this morning, tired. Not fatigued, not struggling to get out of bed. Just plain tired. It was different. I am hopeful the acupuncture is working... along with the dirt. And the beers too.

And just in time as today was a mega day of volunteering... or just a long day of volunteering. I picked up another skater in my league and we sped off to Monroe (north of Seattle, rural town) to help out with an auction for a kid who had Leukemia. There wasn't much to do early on, so I spent a lot of time getting to know my fellow skaters and explaining roller derby to those who knew nothing about it and laughing about it with those who remember it from their youth.

I sped back to Seattle, ran a few errands (kitty food, lipstick, apples - the important stuff), ate some lunch and then went to volunteer at Provail's and Parkview's auction. A new friend of mine works there and I was glad to be there - to help out with an organization I wouldn't have done anything with otherwise (and not for any reason, beside exposure). They had quite a diverse group of people volunteering and hopefully raised a lot of money for all of the work they do for those with speial needs.

All and all, it was a good day. Tiring. But a good tiring.

Finally.

Other Fourth Deminsion Kitty Stories...

My friend, upon reading my blog, sent me this "best of Craiglist" posting... click the link below. Holy cow, it's too funny. (I'm still laughing).

Crazy Kitty Story

Fourth Dimension...

The kittie friends have been going all out on the "Kittie Olympics" lately - Monkey especially. It seems when my landlord did some plumbing work in the bathroom and added a new piece of piping under the toilet, it opened up a 4th dimension (we live in a three dimensional world. The 4th dimension, well, now that's hard to explain). Monkey and Fez both hang out in the bathroom staring at the new shiny piping. Monkey will sleep on the toilet seat, meow at the pipe. Her tail will poof out and she's start Kitty Olympic Relays at 11 p.m. at night. A colleague of mine once said about cats randomly staring at things "You know Michelle, they can see into the 4th Dimension. They will stare intensely at the wall or their tails will poof out over seemingly nothing. They see things we don't. Just accept it." I didn't know that at the time but I'm pretty convinced that they see something - and it might sometimes just freak them out.

With poofy tails and parties in the bathroom, the kittie friends have their own Olympics to train for and experience all the time. To that end, I am going to start training for the Danksin mini triathlon. Yes, I said it. I am going to be participating in a triathlon. And not as a spectator.

I had always said I wouldn't do a triathlon because I don't like to run. (If only there was one that involved all wheels - like skate boarding, rollerblading and biking. Or biking, driving and rollerskating. Yes - driving is a sport.) The mini is 1/2 mile swim (with thousands of people), 12 mile bike (cake!) and a 3 mile run (ugh). Pygmy and I had considering doing the Danskin last year but the Seattle Danskin is the only one that fills up and they actually have to close it. (Exercise freaks!) My friend Lara wanted to do it. She knew some people who had done it and since we had become roller derby girls (and athletic like no other time in my life) we decided we'd do it - together. The email came from my boss that the registration was open and we managed to get registered before it closed (the next morning).

Now, I'm in a triathlon. Hmmmm....

I still don't like to run but maybe if I could find a way to see into the 4th dimension like Monkey, I could more readily poof out my tail and run some serious laps.

Run away! Run away!

Hurricane Lily and Betty Ford Galaxy chasin' me down... (I had been trying to knock out Lily thoroghout the evening.)

more photos from LJ McAllister, click here.

Surprises all around...

Not posting to my blog has been one of the side effects of this illness I can't seem to shake - since like December. I also haven't called my friends, cleaned my appartment and have had just enough energy to make it to work and derby practice in the evenings. It's also kept me away from Heidi's new baby Lucia much to my chagrin. So I finally went to the doctor and hope that it is truly a sinus infection and my "old self" will be back soon.

However, the big event this weekend was the Rat City Roller Girls bout. It was truly a "derby weekend" with volunteering on Friday and participating in the halftime show on Saturday. Jet City Roller Girls first demonstrated "the rules of the game" during the pre-show. We just "bouted" in slow motion. (Picture of me and Sassy Pants as pivots) We were also invited to play "Last Woman Standing" with Rat City (who just won the Western Region Championship - woot - bytheway) for the half time entertainment. The game is just like it says... you skate around and knock each other down or squarely out of bounds. The "last woman standing" wins. We had been practicing this for the last two weeks and though we had some great strategies (beside "don't get knocked out") it was packed as about 35-40 skaters started the game. I lost my trio of other skaters right away as the whistle blew and the hitting started. I tried to knock those I could and skate away from those I couldn't. I rolled on the outside line with one skate (trying to say in), one leg in the air and figured I was out and started to skate away when the ref yelled for me to "get back in there". So I did. To my surprise, as the dust started to settle and derby girls picked themselves up off the ground and skated away I found myself still skating. I looked across the rink and there was ONE other Jet City teammate, Selma Highkick. We made brief eye contact. It was enough for it seemed like the remaining 4 Rat City noticed me (it was like I screamed, HERE I AM) and I took off skating (for my life). I couldn't even believe I was the last JCRG on the floor! I did a couple of laps trying to shake them and saw my end as another skater had slowed down, with three on my tail, I was going out. And I did. But was an incredible SURPRISE and an incredible evening and our derby gals did so damn well! I was so proud and so thrilled to be part of such a fantastic group.

The other surprise of the week were all the blossoms on the trees. I awoke groggy one morning and noticed the tree in my neighbors' backyard FILLED with pink blossoms. Then driving home from skate practice, there were more trees on 80th with blossoms out. It's honestly almost spring! And it's still February! Woot! Woot!

Happy Valentines Day!

Happiness...

...watching you teammates (and league mates) come together to create a fantastic show for a very enthusiastic and supportive audience as one of your first really successful fundraisers. (click here or here to see more pictures).

... having the support from your friends (who are now part of RCRG) whom you use to skate with as part of PFM and other skaters from communities as far away as Bellingham - being a part of such a great sisterhood.

... winning a Grammy. Yes, it's true! Someone I know, actually won a Grammy! Instrumental Soloist(s) Performance (with Orchestra): "Messiaen: Oiseaux Exotiques (Exotic Birds)," John McLaughlin Williams, conductor; Angelin Chang (Cleveland Chamber Symphony). I am so incredibly proud and happy for her and regret that I didn't make it to any of her concerts when I was in Cleveland (but now I can listen to her albums!) That has got to be such an incredible achievement especially with such competition.


... getting a Valentine from a secret admirer in The Stranger (ok, not so secret, but it's fun anyway!)

... sleeping the entire evening so that you can shake a cold you've had perpetually since the middle of December (which isn't fun).

...watching your best friend become a mom.

And making cupcakes for your friends for Valentines Day.

Look Ma! No hands!

My Lemon

My car is a lemon. It is no secret or surprise that the 2000 (first year model) Ford Focus is a lemon. But I like this lemon - even when the fuel pump went out at 18,000 miles, the (ignition) starter busted at 24,000 miles - there have been a 78 recalls for joints, bearings, plastic pieces here and there, wires, plugs, you name it, it's probably been replaced on my car.

But I love my lemon. It was the first car I bought and is the only thing of significant value that I own. It is zippy and fast (oops) and fun to drive. It has bumper stickers on its fat hinny and its name is Ovette (no, not after Corvette, but because it looks like a giant ovary on wheels). My friends in Peace Corps predicted that I would drive a hatchback, with bumper stickers and with an activist box (scissors, tape, tacks, etc.) in the trunk and I declared, defiantly that I "am not a dirty hippie!"

Hmmm...

So I change the oil regularly and keep all of the fluids filled. I have an emergency kit (blanket, jeans, flashlight) in the trunk and I've changed my share of flat tires. My dad and brother, who can fix cars in their sleep (and build houses) have helped me over the years, but have also given me a keen sense of when it's having problems - and it is. Fuel problems to be exact. At first I thought it was the air filter - which after changing it seemed to help. Then we decided it was the fuel injectors. Now, the "check engine" light has come on and I'm convinced that it's the oxygen sensor. Some of this I came up with on my own, some of it my dad and brother helped me with and a friend added a thought or two. So my lemon has to go to the shop and get fixed.

My friend Glitter Chicken (Dani) and I lament about the fact that we're away from "home" - home being many things but home also being that place where you can drive your car up to you parent's/brother's house (or in her case, her boss' house) and say "I think I have this problem..." And you can be reassured about it - you don't have to face car mechanics alone (who, more often than not, think women don't know anything about cars and either treat you like an idiot or try to rip you off) - and together you can fix it or at least learn about it.

It's one of those things you miss - and one of those things you'll figure out along the way - just like finding a good dentist - you will find a good mechanic. Plus, you can still call your dad or your brother and say "Hey - I have this problem and I think...."

Wear sunscreen

I was listing to the radio in the car over the weekend, and stumbled upon this song twice. Somehow I missed this song - this experience - in 1999. Then I realized I was living in Cote d'Ivoire, living it (click below).

Baz Lurhmann's Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen).

It turns out this song was a column written by journalist Mary Schmich: Schmich's June 1, 1997 column began with the injunction to wear sunscreen and continued with discursive advice for living without regret. In her introduction to the column, she described it as the commencement address she would give if she were asked to give one.

This reminded me of my own "commencement speech". When I graduated from the University of Iowa in 1996, I made my own graduation announcements (I mean really, who needs those fancy expensive things). On the front was a photo of me as a baby laughing announcing my graduation. On the back was a long statement that follows below. (My only copy of this hangs out with my box of resume paper - which is where it should be - always look at where you think you might want to go next):

On my way to an undergraduate playwright's meeting, a friend asked me what I was going to do now that I was graduating. I wrote this:

Because I am greedy and because I am graduating, I'm going to tell you what I want:

I want to learn Portuguese. I want to live in Brazil and master the cello. I want to a masters in Arabic and Senegalese culture and be able to do the Samba in my sleep and hit that center in Salsa that I always seem to miss.

I want to be married someday - honestly I do.

I want to climb Mt. St. Helen's again. I want to become a master chef. I want to have my own arts center for youth, I want to give youth a voice. I want to be forever young at heart. I want to play the piano. I want to have a friend teach me to dance in a tight circle like they do in Zaire. I want to visit Paris in the summer and Moscow too.

I want to teach French on Native American Reservations - there was a need a few years ago. I want to play soccer again - every day. I want to learn Hindi. (I wanted to be Gandhi - but that was when I was young and didn't know anything.)

I want to meet Marisa Monte and maybe Nick Cave and visit Haiti and go to Trinidad during festival and learn Spanish. I want to make an award-winning documentary and be a one-hit filmmaker. I want to work for PBS and NPR and BBC.

I want to live with the gypsies of North Africa for a while. I want to name the new color of a crayola crayon. I want to be some one's fairy godmother.

I want to be an art therapist. I want to spend 20 years observing a primate we know nothing about. I want to increase consciousness about malnutrition, disease, social injustice, justice, joy and hope.

I want to sleep on a firm mattress with a feather pillow under five quilts. I want to drink lemon tea in the mornings and stay up every night engrossed in conversation about God and love and literature and dance and faint from exhaustion. I want to live every second and not let it kill me. I want to be able to live by the principle Voltaire once stated and that is "Change your small corner of the world and be content." I want ethnic cleansing to stop. I want Muslims to be respected and blacks and Latinos and the people who try every day.

I want every single person to respect at least one other single person.

I want to visit Nepal. I want to stop the Chinese from destroying Tibet. I want Tibetans to reclaim their own culture. I want to live by the Buddhist saying "We can all choose to be awake."

And I want you to, too.

Rabbit! Rabbit!

My friend and past supervisor Nanci has the crazy tradition at the beginning of each month - you say Rabbit Rabbit! If you are the first one to say it to your friend, family, neighbor, colleague, whomever, you will have good luck for the month. Of course, it caught on like wild fire at my last job and we would go to extremes to be the first one. Sometimes I would stay late at work the night before the 1st and write it on a piece of paper, or better yet put a note in the fridge where everyone put their lunches. We would call, type message, send ecards, etc. to be the first Rabbit! Rabbit! and get the most luck.

Well, like most silly traditions, it spun slightly out of control and Nanci instated a new policy in that you had to physically say "Rabbit! Rabbit!" to the person to get the luck. No phone messages, no typed notes, no e-cards. Of course, will caller ID on most of the phones, its been tricky to pull it off, for your names appears and your Rabbit victim won't answer it. Today, I covertly called Nanci's receptionist, said my name was someone from the affiliate in Columbus and I was able to get her with Rabbit! Rabbit! as she sweetly said "Hello."

Rabbit! Rabbit!