Weekend surprise: Hugged sweet grace under pressure.

Bill Gates owes me my pics and another laptop -- or at least the service charges I may incur having my current one's software mess straightened out. And I really, really, REALLY don't want to be forced into Windows Vista hell -- at least I hear from everybody lately that it royally sucks.

Anyway, that's not why I'm posting, but the Adobe Photoshop in it ate most of the photos I wanted to upload to this post. Following are the surviving pics. I was in downtown Palm Springs this afternoon -- tourist central -- and as I was crossing from the Las Casuelas parking lot, I saw a girl and a man holding up a sign; a charity car wash was being sponsored by CopyKatz, the best celebrity impersonator-dinner theater in the known universe.

This is the beautiful Mrs. McCabe:



McCabes helping out:


CopyKatz is owned by Elyse Del Francio; her late husband died from Parkinson's, and he used marijuana to control it. She is helping out the McCabes, who are being used by the federal government as an example and as a way to further nullify the medicinal marijuana law of California. Here is the KESQ story.

UPDATE: found the story on Youtube:



My dad died in 2002, after a long battle with intestinal cancer. He was blessed with wonderful people around him, some who provided him with home-grown marijuana which quelled his nausea and helped his appetite between treatments. My dad lived in a ranch by the border, and one time a border patrol unit apparently noticed the plants when scanning the area. They reported this to the county sheriff. The sheriff knew my dad, drove to his ranch, and after reporting back that the plants weren't marijuana, helped make them unnoticable, so to speak. My father was very fortunate to know him. The McCabes weren't so fortunate. This is sickening. So if you can, please support them however you can -- financially would be great, but e-mails and words of encouragement are much appreciated, too. You can learn how by calling (760) 799-2055 or on this site. Thank you.


The following is the last PMS-ing PC survivor-photo;it's the creepy Marilyn Monroe mannequin behind the display window of the latest celebrity memorabilia shop at the corner of Baristo and Palm Canyon:



I hope Slick's photographer's stuff won't be PMSing when I strike a pose next Saturday.

Have a good morning, good day, or good night.

Because she practically read my mind ...

"I have the best life...really... I affirm this all the time. Not only do I affirm it, I truly do believe it.

And then, I find moments during my "great life" that send me into a fury of tangled emotions. And I ask myself, how do I get myself in that space, where I start to feel anger or frustration coursing through me? When I have the best life, how do these feelings come to surface? If we believe that we are beautiful and divine beings, with purpose and connected to source/divinity, how do we keep creating distractions from the truth?

Is it only ego? There must be some growth along the way... is there a world that can exist where growth CAN be beautiful? I think I would like this place. I was called an "idealist" for a good duration of my youth years, as if I was not in touch with "reality." People around me would describe their reality and it didn't sound any fun at all. Why not have a deliciously divine "ideal" reality... I believe we can create this reality.... a better world. Where we live in peace with ourself.

Really, that is all we need. If we were at peace with ourself... our True self, there would be no contrast to have with others. I am reminded daily that nothing, and I mean NOTHING is ever about anyone else. If you find yourself focused on someone or something else and give your power away, you are not facing the truth. Nothing is outside of us, it is ALWAYS within."

Janan, GetSelfCentered

Reading this hit a nerve because I was thinking about how my work, in spite of being hectic and irritating, is strangely turning into the place I need to be at -- the place I'm getting some kind of opportunity to take a look around me and which may provide some of the answers to the path I will be taking in the hopefully near future. And I don't mean that in an airy-fairy way (though, I know, this blog sure as hell looks all kinds of airy-Cali-fairy). For example, the lawyers I work with have in a strange way shown their true colors slowly, their softer side. OK, they're still sharks when doing their jobs, but that is often a very good thing, and for example, Slick the youngest may be slick, BUT more than once already he's shown he will not abide repulsive potential clients -- anyway, getting way too TMI, esp for ye olde public blog, so maybe I'll continue it in the privates, bye.

Ate, napped; ready to run through sprinklers :D

I also was on hold about an hour waiting for Time Warner to bring my poor wheezing Road Runner internet service back from the dead :(


So I'm glad I didn't turn on the 'puter until I got a half-hour nap and food in me -- because now this gorgeous old golf course beckons with its old greenery and its sprinklers should be on about now -- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH <3

I'm back to running outdoors -- ohhhhh how I missed it. Like yoga, it took a backseat to the gym I joined to help my sis out with her fitness program. OK, gotta go now while there's still post-sunset light out BYE!

A Tibetan Prayer

Stunning courage.

The sun and moon

dance and blow the trumpets,

and a little child shall

turn the Wheel of the Law.

Secret of the body, of the

Word and the Heart of God,

His innermost breath is

the steed of the Bodhisattvas.


-- Marpa Lotsawa (1012 - 1097)

Sun seduction from office window: Not fair.

TodayInSeven is keeping the tumbleweeds at bay in this blog :)

Anyway, sucked it up and made my lie to my little mama a truth; got an appointment with Slick's photographer Saturday after next. This blog is also keeping me from shirking my scheduled stint mid-April at the voter reg booth. And it's actually making me look forward to joining the two other lawyers on a trip to Mexicali, Baja California Norte, Mexico, to meet with someone who may lend credibility to a client in his case.

And here's a random youtubery just because it was on the radio on the way home. My ex-fiancé mailed me this song burned on a CD a couple of weeks after we split. I'd rather keep the details off here, but the working title of the sort-of short story I'm working on is How I Almost Married a Vegetarian Marine, because Runaway Bride is taken.

"Si, ma, ya le llamé al fotógrafo."

How'd I go there? I told mom I'd already made an appointment with a photographer. You see, she's a "scrapper," as in a scrapbook-making nut. My godmother got her into it, and made mom's demands of quality pictures of her children more frequent. And at family events, etcetera, I tend to dodge random cameras like bullets. My profile pic was taken by my best friend during student teaching in LA, who got it by yelling "HEY, LETTY" as she usually does to get me to turn around at the student pub and then WHAM. I didn't kill her because she's crazy enough to be my friend and because it's a great shot, and because there were small children right outside, clamoring for their Halloween Mardi-gras-themed treats and entertainment -- the things we did to suck up to LAUSD...but I digress. And I already told the tale of the grating mall photo shots I took for my mom and why.

Anyway, I'm posting this to FORCE myself to make my lie a truth tomorrow; it's sort of the way I forced myself to get a paper or story done on time by telling at least one person in a position to be disappointed if I didn't meet my declared deadline. I scrambled for photo studio phone book numbers but lawyer Slick handed me a card from the photographer in Indian Wells who took head shots for his slick self. So I'm calling him tomorrow, and hope to book by next week as he's supposed to be very good but very reasonable. So not only will my vanity be tickled if I work the nerve to upload the finished product here, but maybe I'll stop longing to be as relaxed in front of the camera as cool peeps like these :)

ugh....anyway, good times ahead :/ got to get out of my sweaty sweats, shower, and eat and prep for work tomorrow, but what else is new mid-week, good night!

Waking naked, day pantsuit, shorts; bed naked.

Some days are just so long in the middle, it's all about the costume changes between scenes.

... so, so sleepy, buenas noches ~_~

Voter registration volunteer again -- must love drama.

I was called this morning to confirm that I can show up the following weeks to work the local Democrats' registration booth. I said yes, stomach slightly fluttering at the prospect of facing down the Rush Limbaugh-wannabe oafs and oafettes loitering around the Republican voter reg booth across the asphalt.

But the speech team nerd in me, tingling at verbally breaking down an opponent again, licked her lips and said, "Why yes I'm free; just let me know which nights you need me as soon as you can." I thought I burned out on politics Bush's second time go-round. I was wrong. Interesting times ahead.

P.S.: After more helpful hints from Mr. Bananas, I finally figured out how to activate my own fragging blog for feedability readability. A liberal arts education is a terrible thing to waste.

Thanks to Mr. Bananas and Ms. Freakmagnet, among a few other blogs I've clicked on from dawn 'til now, I've laughed and laughed :)

AND THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU to Mr. Bananas for pointing out Google Reader to replace my RSS blog feed. All this time I missed what should have been obvious -- I thought Google Reader was some kind of news-updating service, not a HELLA BETTER blog feed than RSS. Now I just have to finish plunking my twentyhundred favorite blogs in it, and I haven't even finished doing that on my blogroll for this site :/

Right now I'm awaiting one more call from my sister Socorro; I forsee some tension between her, her partner, and my redheaded sister Angela. ... Good times, this Easter meal will be. Can't WAIT for my mom's post-Easter-mass take on this -- need more latte, later.

P.S.: In the interest of saving the Democratic Party from themselves, I recommend the video above for Barack and Hillary: MAKE LOVE NOT WAR-OF-WORDS! They need to hook up (as in POLITICALLY) and share the ticket, but I'm afraid the campaign has gotten way too bitter and personal. ... mmmmm, latte...later!

I second his emotion.


Have been reading news and watching news clips for about an hour. Sending e-mails. Blood running cold, anger flowing acid. Need to go shower and eat and go out in the friendly desert sun outside; then will be busy prepping for my sister's family Easter Sunday dinner tomorrow. Later.

I took their bait ...

I hate it when I fall in love with a commercial, and I'm proud to say that hasn't happened since the Geico geko commercials were new .. but I've been looking for this other insurance commercial now since last Sunday, and finally found it:




... and THEN, I found this little beauty from the same company:




... nearly choked on my latte laughing when I saw the first one ... I need help.

ACHTUNG!

It's Herr Bach's birthday!

No, not THAT Sebastian Bach, sillies! THIS older, hotter Bach:



And how does a simple desert rat with a state university-granted Bachelors know this? Well all thanks to the hippest classical station in the whole round globe. My alarm is set to their hilarious (yes, as in funny and delightful) morning show. Bach punnery and funnery abound RIGHT NOW -- very much worth a listen :)

...and you have NO IDEA how hard it was to string this post together on less than one cup of joe -- it's morning in Cali, donchaknow!

I didn't mean to scare off whatever male readers may be clicking in here with this chick's mug, and I don't want to get into celebrity gossip and bs in this blog because I'm burned out on the gossip machine, thus my "real life" people blog addiction. BUT, on the drive home from work, a song came on that gave me an "a-ha" moment about why any man in his right (or not right) mind would hook up, marry, or whatever else with a certifiable whackjob drama queen (albeit a fun one to read about) like the former Mrs. McCartney. So without further ado, I'll let the gentlemen of Buckcherry break it down for you (warning: It's the unedited NSFW version of the song and video):

"We are lawyers; we make magic happen."

The above is what Slick, the youngest of the lawyer brood I babysit, deadpanned to me after a particularly heinous client with fantastical expectations slammed the door on his way out. He's a poet but he don't know it, that Slick.

Testing ... 1, 2, 3 ...

YESSSSS! My computer LIVES -- whew :/

It's too damned young to die on me now, kept the last one sputtering away since my senior year at Cal State and this witchbitch laptop is only 2 years old, what gives with it running slow, already ran spyware and crap check, I'm thinking it's me switching to Mozilla and the firewall and Moz having pissing contests -- GAH, oh well, so very relieved to get back and turn this badgirl on and she's running smooth...for now. The mess with the blog update feed thingie, THAT I haven't figured out. I'm back to checking on my 23 jillion blog favorites the old fashioned way, clickin' & peekin'. Yes, my name is Letty Cruz and I'm a blogaholic :(

Anyhey, here's some ear & eye candy to justify this boring post:

Computer PMS-ing -- not a 'he' then, damn.

GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!

My tech-tardedness knows no bounds. Does ANYONE stumbling by here know of a blog-updated site feed besides RSwhatever? Because I keep getting "updates" on blogs that HAVEN'T updated, OR (more likely) I've frigging not using right. Grrrrrrr

"Our longing for the eternal kindles our imagination to bless. Regardless of how we configure the eternal, the human heart continues to dream of a state of wholeness, that place where everything comes together, where loss will be made good, where blindness will transform into vision, where damage will be made whole, where the clenched question will open in the house of surprise, where the travails of life's journey will enjoy a homecoming. To invoke a blessing is to call some of that wholeness upon a person now."

- John O'Donohue, *To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings*

This is from Rob "Astrology Hippie" Brezsny's newsletter this week. Goes great with the gorgeous night full of crackling bright stars and blooming moon, so beautiful I was reluctant to come back indoors but dinner and an empty belly compelled me. Good night to all the whoevers if ever one is out there ;)

Beach-going weather; trapped in office :(

Beach and blue swimsuit on workday brain.

Behold! Teutonic beauty!

Have been IMing with the fine foreign student who introduced me to the musical stylings of Rammstein back in LA. Gotta run, but just had to share the hotness of Till and his boys from back in the day ;D

aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Track gleaming, legs flying, burning stress goodbye!

Sex, lies, and ... mosquitos

It's been a while since local news made me laugh out loud for real. And why do I get this funny feeling that I may be seeing at least one of the characters involved in this melodrama at the offices o' law soon?...OK, so I better shut up about it then.

Second cup of joe is barely getting me coordinated to do my eye makeup this morning; pre-Saint Patrick's Day weekend was that good...or that bad, depending on one's perspective, later.



... Back home again, long, LOOOOOOONG work day. This song just came on with lyrics that I'm really feeling due to a couple of events at work and in my recreational life:



It's been a LOOOOOOOONG time since I've gotten into a Sheryl Crow song. Sweet video, too.

Saint Patrick Sunday: Green Hefeweizen hangover ... help

Saint Patrick Saturday: Green Hefeweizen ain't right.

Yoga in park, across firehouse ... hello, fireman ;)


Today's TodayInSeven blog comment from me, going to start making tags for it from now on.

So yes, yoga at the park after work, as the sun slowly set, beautiful. Firemen cleaning fire engines in the caged yard behind the fire station across the street. Fireman looking, smiling, waving, me smiling back, waving. Cat asana hard to keep when eyes go against flow of movement and breath, need to focus more. But I felt that effervescence during and after the asanas again. Never got that from pilates, that feeling that even my mind has been re-aligned. And my body "remembers" them like old friends.

But seriously, I need to focus more, and be more consistent with yoga. Fell in an on-and-off pilates rut that left me stiff and unmotivated most of last year because my sister Angela wanted me to join her at her gym doing pilates to keep her motivated.

So I learned the hard way that yoga is the complete package compared to pilates, at least for me.

But in news from more happening blogs, SixtyMinuteArtist (Jerry Lebo, a.k.a. Painter Dad) had a case of Dengue (!!!) fever so that's why he wasn't blogging for a while. Read that and thought "wow," as I read that maybe 200 or so cases have been reported in the U.S. last year, if I recall correctly. So I'm not quite so jealous right now of frequent-fliers as I usually am. Matt Boyle still appears to be on tour, and Hobo Teacher soldiers on in Robber Baron High :)

Sweats to launder, shower, dinner can't wait, adios!

Blog Roll Quote of the Week

Dear Dude in the beaten up Chevy Malibu from Saturday:
When I am out for a walk, standing at an intersection while waiting for the light to change, please refrain from lowering your window, slowing down and making kissing noises at me as you turn the corner. As aroused as I get when a unwashed, possibly buzzed stranger kisses at me from his shitmobile as if he's summoning a dog, I am not going to jump into your sticky-looking passenger seat.

No, it would not have helped if you'd been driving a nicer car.


This Big Fat Blog Addictions link-adding has me truly laughing out loud every other click now. The excerpt above is from one of my favorites from way back, by one fabulous freakmagnet redhead. I myself am a habitual flirt, it seems to run in my family, but I want to stab the eyeballs out of freaks like this great blogger describes so perfectly. She also has great insights into flirting-do's, as well as insightful general social commentary.

... HOWEVER, in all fairness to the GUY-humor side of these issues, I humbly direct you to The Best Page in the Universe, by a guy named Maddox, blessed with harsh but razor-sharp and on-the-money wit. Enjoy!

YAY me :D

I finally got around to creating a Blog Roll linking to my major blog addictions, from the poetic to the profane. I still have quite a few on my blog feed, but am trying to limit it here to a well-rounded sampling of that huge mess I call my private "blogfaves" collection. My blog-reading habit inspired me to create my first Blogger blog when my last computer was on its last CPU-leg and I stashed all my favorite sites on that blog for safekeeping in case of a 'puter crash.

... Oh, and what about the parrot, you ask? Just a gratuitous pic of my mom's parrot, Oggy -- that's short for "Augustino." Dropped by mom's house in Desert Hot Springs last Saturday, petted him, and as usual he gave me a love-bite on my right hand with his can-opener beak. I broke out in hives up my forearm an hour later. So, I'm either allergic to Oggy now, or to Desert Hot Springs. I say Desert Hot Springs all the way -- if you've ever visited or lived in DHS, you'll understand why.

P.S.: Just came from Today: In Seven Words Or Less, and posted my day in seven words again; it's addictive! So from now on, whenever I post there, I'll post my "seven-word-day" entry here, too. This is what I shared over there tonight:

Time flies when babysitting lawyers: typical Tuesday.

Another fountain post ...

Besides my less-than-stellar photography skills, the "Rainbow Fountain" (it's official name is the Rainmaker, but locally known as the rainbow fountain or rainbow waterfall) above doesn't look as spectacular as it can because it is bone-dry, drained of water. I took this photo this afternoon, an 82-degree Fahrenheit, glorious, tourist-studded afternoon in downtown Palm Springs.

The Rainmaker fountain is on the corner of Alejo Road and North Palm Canyon Drive. The concrete stairs lend a waterfall effect when water is running through the channel and from the pipes in the main well over them. And the pipes above are designed to be moved by the weight/water pressure like a fulcrum, or fulcrums. These pipes are the "rainbow," each of them painted in primary colors. It's a graceful swinging effect with water splashed just barely over the fountain's furthest concrete border.

Why would the city fathers and mothers see it fit to turn off the water on a glorious tourist-magnet day like this and deprive them of this site of a fountain the Chamber of Commerce touted repeatedly as a major artistic acquisition for the city? Well, there was this teeeeensy little issue about homeless men and women bathing in it and seeking relief from the often-scorching desert sun. The homeless which the city boosters try really, really hard to pretend don't exist.

Here's a couple of close-up shots:

Dream Dog

I had the strangest vivid dream at the tail end of sleep Monday morning:

The first images I remember are of me standing outside a club or bar that was bursting its timbers with twenty-something prospective yuppies, and a heinous generic live rock band vibrating the glass windows that made up most of the building. I think I may have been talking to someone outside the club but don't remember what I was saying, and I seemed to be trying to get away from there because the whole scene irritated me. It was also broad daylight, and crisp-blue breezy outside. Oh, and the club-bar had a blue sign outside that said "Blau," apparently its name.

The next scene I recall is me walking along a playing field (soccer or track field, I think) and realizing that my mom was out in it kicking a ball and trying to get it across the goal-net as a couple of fellow senior citizens struggled to kick it away from her -- one gaunt, monk-looking guy to her left and a chunky Andy Rooney-looking character huffing and puffing to her right rear. I could see more oldsters running toward her. I waved my mom down, and she kicked the ball over the net like nothing, and came up to me looking annoyed and somehow signalled to me that she had to get back to the field so I better make it quick. I said something and she answered back (again, I don't recall the words we exchanged).

I felt kind of disappointed that my mom couldn't take a longer break to talk to me, but quickly walked on, toward an apartment building that matched the architecture of the club Blau. The architecture reminded me of some along Coronado/San Diego: White-washed wood and lots of huge glass panes. The day was also very breezy and almost crackling with energy as I breathed, kind of like the wind has been in reality around the desert the last couple of days. Anyway, the dream place had a near-beach feel to it, but not sure what town it was.

As I walked up the apartment building's worn landing steps, I was greeted by a cheerful, manic labrador-mix kind of medium-sized dog, its whip-like tail a wagging blur, and it leaped the few steps from where it stood at the landing to lick my hands a couple of steps down. I patted its head and rubbed its neck, as I marvelled at the strange velcro texture of its short-hair coat and deep, rust-red color.

My alarm clock woke me up right then, I scribbled in the journal I keep next to me in bed, and later at work googled "blau" and first thing that popped up was a chain of resorts in Majorca. Also that "blau" means not just "blue" in German but also in Catalan. Don't know if that symbolizes anything in my dream, but thought it was curious.

Anyway, hope to be back with a picture resembling the dog in my dream, because my MS Paint rendition of it did him no justice. And I think I could perhaps sketch him the good old-fashioned paper-and-pencil way, but I still haven't figured how to take a good pic of it to upload correctly to get in the right size up in here...yes, I'm technically impaired in so many ways :(

Update: The random Google images photo above is the closest to the dream dog I've found so far. The dream dog didn't look like pure Labrador as the one above appears to be. Dream Dog's tail was about the same length, but it was sleek and pointed. The big, floppy, happy tongue is exactly like Dream Dog's. And the coat is shaggy, not short like Dream Dog's, but it is almost as deep-red as Dream Dog's. And I guess I'm focusing on Dream Dog because he (seemed like a male dog) was so full of energy he radiated it into my hands, and that's why it was so hard to wake up and "lose" touch with him. Weird.

Update II: Just dusted off the dream dictionary I bought from Barnes & Noble clearance last year and looked up "dog" and these two interpretations/definitions strike a chord with me about this dream: "... if unknown [the dog] may signify the qualities of loyalty and unconditional love associated with dogs," and "A dog symbolizes the guardian of the underworld. In Egyptian mythology this is depicted by Anubis, the dog-headed god."

... But, I haven't found a reference to moms playing soccer or football yet.