Rest In Pieces

Charlie Brown has nuttin on me today. My harbinger of bad news a broken wristwatch and perhaps my mismanaged calendar. I was in Menlo Park for a 1:00 an hour early. So much for the hurry scurry. I haven't had my watch in months, thinking that it's good to have my dual timezone watch ready and willing for any unplanned trips, I seek out a battery and a new band. I will return to the watch drama a bit later as my real angst lies with the Easter Bunny. So where else but The Stanford Shopping Center to commandeer the watchband, battery, score some saucy lingerie and stop in at Sephora for cosmetics. Oh- the photo op is set up with the rabbit-yeah!

Neat and tidy. Swat team swiftness.

Except that the Bunny frowns upon pictures with adults sans children. After much explaining about my doubting-the-bunny-existing 6&8 yr olds I was given the big frown (meaning: go away weirdo lady.) Fine. The bunny is sorta pervvy anyways so off to Victoria Secret where I have my own express line, except when I don't or they won't simply give me a catalog without charging me three bucks. When inquiring why it is I must over pay for thread with a bow ( amounting to underwear) AND the catalog ms. salesgurrl shares that the catalog is available free online.
Have you ever received just one issue of a VS catalog? Thought so. The amazon deforestation is part and parcel due to these tri-weekly catalogs of soft porn. I prefer the real thing, so I will take a pass on the Victoria Secret version.
My true saga of saturation: the watch band/battery drill. Macys right? Oh how wrong...... The woman at the jewelry counter informs me they have neither a battery or band for me so she sends me to Safeway. I can't even elaborate on this one. Enough said.

My last errand of the day, a tweak to my writing class. I stop off at Stanford before heading home except that this too is so pathetically not working. Hop back in the car, roll the windows down and shift gears under the heart pounding thump thump sound track of the Pussycat dolls. 280 is a welcome sight. Enter stage right the dart of a squirrel and a quick zigzag from the furry road warrior leads to a very pronounced double tire thud at 75 miles an hour. Rest in pieces my friend.

Did I happen to mention I had an off day?

Turn the evening around. Ice cream and a few brownies would take the edge off my curveball of a day. Brownies are frozen so a quick nuke session in the microwave e voila..caught on fire.

Good Nite. Is it humpday tomorrow?

Blow Me

The things that truly make us happy can most likely be counted upon one hand, but I gotta say talking from a place of endorphins, sun, and sand it can be summed up in one small word.
compound word really- kite surfing. Invented by the french, this newish sport has the potential for a screaming good time. I know a bit about the French and the world of wind & water from when I took delivery of a french built boat we had commissioned in Canet Rousillon. The french call extreme wind, the Tramuntanas' ( our boat name) but to enjoy this wind, which is considered sportif means to throw caution to said wind and make the most of it. Sportif can have a double meaning depending upon the nationality of the person seeking to enjoy any sport wind related. Americans would most likely have a moment of reasoning only to decide that screaming across the wake of the ocean tantamount to suicide with sunscreen. The french on the other hand extinguish their cigarettes so both hands are available to hold on to the kite, then launch into gail force wind. Love those sportif french.

I liked living in France, even if it was very french. The meal/wine/linger/talk have another glass of wine then enjoy dessert followed by a glass of port/Sauternes just made sense to the gourmand in me. What does this have to do with wind driven sports you ask? Nothing really, other than all that holding on to a kite is really a lot of work, and work makes one hungry and well there we are, full circle in the scheme of things..

The other thing the french are know for is the ability to work a 30 hour week, but make it seem as though it's so much more intense. Again that's where that long lugubrious lunch helps. Eek out an existence, while enjoying that daily two hour lunch. Oh how I miss those daze.

So hail to the french, this new sport I have discovered (or yet to discover, when I strap on the surfboard and the kite) is so intoxicating, so fun, it is no surprise that it is attributed to the french. Now to mandate the obligatory lunchtime routine, I would be set.

Hail To The Impulsive

When is a long runway too long? I suppose much of the decision is completely subjective. My runway is typically short. Really, quite impulsively short. My comfort zone is the unknown, so the concept of plotting and planning for the perfect thing leaves me feeling like a creative failure. This past Friday was a prime example. Spontaneous cocktails with a dozen neighbors showing up to enjoy the evening alfresco. Just as I have never planned for fun in the past, I shall continue on my quest for random fun and frivolity where and when it presents itself- but it helps to have willing participants... so thank you all who joined in on the sultry spontaneous cocktails. The dancing later on in the evening was certainly a highlight.

Sometimes planning is a necessary evil, maybe even required. Concerts come to mind. Leonard Cohen is touring for the first time in many years, because of the babysitter-school night logistics it is always this hoop to jump thru just to have an evening of well orchestrated fun. But ever notice how these well planned and plotted events fail to deliver the same jolt of satisfaction?

Listening to KFOG this morning I was stopped dead in my spontaneous tracks. A radio spot promoting the upcoming concert of Billy Joel and Elton John for a concert in November. So those of you who embrace plotting and planning- this is your event. With eight months to plan it should be completely welcome evening. Should you wish to turn a new leaf- there's always the last min ticket available on craigslist.

The Fun in DysFUNction

Director Sam Mendes knocks the ball outta the park again. Remember the little film that won best picture in 1999...American Beauty? I loved the sheer comet brightness of both screen play and cast. Certainly one of my top five all time fave flicks. The idea of yet another dysfunctional suburban story, Revolutionary Road told so spot on without missing a beat from the original book version, so elegantly written by Richard Yates and directed by Mr. Mendes. The screen version of this epic suburban tale left such an indelible mark on my heart. Translating an epic piece of literature to movie can sometimes leave gaping holes in story development. My question was: how can the film experience stay true to the book nature of loss, love and loneliness? Can it really be summed up within a two hour movie. The answer this time: a resounding yes.
When I first read the haunting book Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates, I was still a city dweller. The description of such a mundane existence, dashed hopes and the muddled dreams of a bright young couple who find suburban life intolerable was as foreign to me as Mars. In the movie version Mendes takes the cruxt of the story: a couple that seems adrift in a sea of sameness, crying out for change, to break from the ordinary for this once extraordinary couple. The movie chemistry and book both chronicle the motions of life as if stuck in an emotional idle. Fast forward ten years....Geez- those shoes seem custom made for the suburban subset of my so called life.

If wishes were fishes is the thesis of this cautionary tale. Trepidation and denial lend itself to real life. Yates elegant manor begs for an introspective look at the unhappiness that lies just beneath the surface of suburban life. Thank goodness for safety nets. Life lesson learned from my own dabble in the mysteriously myopic world of 95030? Did I forget to mention my house is on the market?

War Stories

The Webby Awards have morphed into something substantial. I remember one of the first we attended in The City, during the Willie Brown Mayoral fiefdom. The awards were hosted in the posh city hall duomo. Ahh- to remember the dotcom nuttiness and all that conspicuous consumption. Pass the baton to the next techie wave of glitterati and the webbys' now have a real heft of creative genius. Veiled meaning: sucks that when I attended these back in the neophyte days...it was marginally fun. Now it resembles real fun with a creative tour de force to match the cache. BooHoo. But wait, could there be an encore? I have a groovey start-up idea that has legs.. Helps too that my double E yummy hubby can help with the geek aspect.

Nostalgic waxing makes me sound like the war vet bevvyed at the bar talking about the days when blah blah blah...snore. Concept is the same but instead of war stories you get to be regaled with the infancy of the Internet and how fun it was way back when, blah blah blah, snore. Feel free to flee this blog...it's reminiscent of the song from Bruce Springsteen, glory days. I think you get the idea.

The tech bubble was a footnote in the timing netaphor/metaphor..... all about being at the right place at the right time. So as I script a new business plan for a start-up concept that involves text messaging it's like opening a time capsule of creativeness that might be monetized. Gotta like that concept. Just when you think you've gotten to the end of your Karmic rope, it's another emotional roller coaster of timing but how fun to put that seat belt on knowing that uncertainty means fun and fun is good.

Cat like agility helps, but mostly it's timing. I suppose i need to bust a move on my business plan vs. the stream of consciousness blogshere mental masturbation.

Nice Try

It's that time again...planning the summer vacation hoopla. This year thought it might be interesting to throw a wrench in just to monkey with the plan at hand. One of my finest epiphanies: take Amtrak to visit the in-laws in D.C. Think the antithesis of George Jetson...jetpacks give way to riding the rails..I suppose what I really miss is the train schedule board before electronic schedules erased the sound of all of those numbers physically flipping. God I LOVE that sound. Those flipping numbers represented the sound of places to be discovered. So yes, nostalgia still makes me want to travel by rail. So 1880's of me.

Washington DC is an amazingly fun place in the summer. The romantic notion of arriving in our capital, into the glorious Grand Central Station- well, what's not to like? Traveling early in the summer one can circumvent the crowd gridlock at places like the Smithsonian, Air and Space Museum. The hook could have been the visions of a relaxing book filled journey. Where these visions took a U-turn was when I assumed the cost would be on par with air travel. Wrong. The roughly three day trip is about what it costs to take a holiday break in Mexico, like a really nice ten day holiday. Did I mention I only researched a one-way journey? Round trip is what I would spend to stay in Barcelona-for a month. Serious dough.

After spending more than my fair share of time riding trains all over the planet, suffice to say I was saddened by the cost of a cross country Amtrak journey. I wasn't after all planning an excursion aboard the Orient Express (which by the way, mile for mile may be a better value.) Certainly better ambiance but I digress. Maybe another option could be my childhood notion of high adventure. Hobo travel ala sack tied stick and can of beans. Okay, no beans-pate, nice olives and maybe some brie. Sounds curiously like a skit from Yogi Bear and his little buddy booboo but with a gourmet picnic. I was so sure I could sell this concept of spending the first weeks of summer as stylized cartoon characters. Highly romanticized I agree, isn't that the point?

Remember a few years ago, a big bail out of Amtrak kept the nations railway alive? Subsidization is certainly acceptable in my book as long as the investment might be amortized to soften the blow of ridership. Interesting figures about federal funding for different modes of transportation in the USA: while the government funded highways to the tune of $35 billion last year, and air travel received $14.5 billion, Amtrak receives a measly $1.3 billion - the same as it got in 1980.

Slate has an interesting article from 2002. Our own VP Joe Biden is a big supporter of Amtrak so you think more stimulus money/grenntech porkbarrel/good juju would be in store for this essentially government owned service. Nope.

Bottom line is I couldn't sell it. The looks from everyone at the breakfast table was as if I had fallen and hit my head. The eight year old suggested Jetblue, no red-eye. Yeah...I'll get right on that.

Brick & Mortar Wins

Do you think a name really matters when it comes to choosing an educational path? I was surprised at the sheer number of online universities as I have started down the exploratory road of returning to grad school. Could the online experience be equal to the brick & mortar university experience? The market for online courses and degrees has continued to grow in recent years in spite of an overall slowdown in the growth of Internet-related industries. It's tough to dodge the pop up window barrage of online ads touting the accredited programs that run the gamut of MBA to Public Policy to a masters of Fine Art ala basket weaving. A recent pop up for Slippery Rock University might have a different connotation on a CV for someone seeking a career in outdoor adventure. Why am I so hung up on a name? After all it's just that...Or is it. When you take into account the time, effort, and networking opportunities it sorta makes sense to question if the experience might be entirely different online vs old school. The Master of Arts in Conflict Resolution and Reconciliation by Abilene Christian University - is a faith-based, 36-hour online program that prepares you to analyze, address and manage conflict effectively and professionally. My question is: does divine intervention add to the overall experience or help gain in-depth preparation for this field. Besides a larger question looms, just how in depth can this "study" be with just 36 hours of instruction. Do you get a recommendation from some higher power that makes the short time frame more enriching? Don't think so.
Could name equate to cache? I understand the attraction of an online degree program, but wonder about the core curriculum and student body make up. The big selling point behind grad school is also a new networking group with the added ability to springboard your skill set to a new plateau.Typically graduate school is almost entirely an endeavor with a power base of business contacts waiting in the wings, at least biz school. How does peer group translate online when the student base is global? Will widely-endorsed models of "blended" online learning, which require some face-to-face interaction, become the norm, or will most courses substitute chat rooms and bulletin boards for face-to-face interaction? One could look at the business networking from an online education as a facebook extension of a CV.

Ultimately it was a tough decision for me of brick & mortar vs. On-line. So as much as I enjoy
a glass of Full-Sail micro brew on a warm summer evening, attending the same named university was a non-starter. I settled upon the brick & mortar standby Stanford. Hey- what can I say, cache goes a long way.