Erma's Stomping Grounds

Dating Rules

2009-10-27T01:22:00.000-07:00

Artist: BySilent

I've added a new rule for when I am on a date.

"Never mention you have plans after your date."

No matter how innocent those plans may be; no matter if it's a good friend (Hoagus) who needs a shoulder... even though you deferred them for the date in the first place... even though you may want to invite the date to meet your good friend... even though - SAY NOTHING! Don't invite them. Don't try to impress them by saying you put off your friend for them. Don't bother trying to convince them that they're just a friend and no! you're not sleeping with them even if it isn't their business because this was the very first date. Just. Don't. Do. It.

Can you hear the venom? Yeah, I know. I'm better off without. Whatever! But... the thing is though, I really liked him (whine)... and I thought he really liked me (whine). We flirted endlessly and even touched as we did. We held hands during the movie. (I know! Sweet, right?) We talked for hours and then the next day... nothing. He even said the date was going "swimmingly."

*sigh*

Yeah, yeah... I know.

Why do we have to have these rules? Why can't we just be who we are, faults and everything? I guess we could just be who we are and let the chips fall where they may. Wasn't meant to be... isn't that what everyone says? And yet, we still have these "rules" that we cleave to. Make sure to look your very best. Don't mention the ex. Don't sleep with them on the first date.

And who came up with THAT rule in the first place? Even though it's a good one to adhere to... (H. even says he respects no girl who gives it up on a first date... and H. always tries to get it on the first date.) But then, we don't always follow our self-imposed list of rules, do we? And sometimes, when we do, it still doesn't help is in the pursuit of finding that mate. That One.

And who the Hel said there was supposed to be One? Why can't it be several Ones? I'm a firm believer that people come in and out of our lives for a reason... whether it's for comfort, or a lesson, or just to reflect to you who you really are... isn't that what the One is, too? Just like your sister, or your mom, or your dad is a One? It is with these beings of light in our lives that make us who we are, right? To test our limitations... to share with us all our hopes and dreams and emotions. Can't the One we seek be more than One? Maybe a lifetime of Ones? And if you think about it... aren't most of those Ones given? Or do you think that some of the Ones in our lives are meant to be sought after?

Either way, if you think about it... if you do want that One... you have to be yourself, faults and everything... because you're gonna be with that One for as long as the Universe lets you, which could end up being a really long time. So, yeah... we might have these rules for ourselves that for the most part, we follow, but when that One does show up... the One the Universe has ready for you... the One that is there to teach you something about yourself... all those rules will go right out the window.

Saving Our Ass!

2009-10-11T03:56:00.000-07:00

Saguaro Moon - Credit & Copyright: Stefan Seip

My morning started out great! Well, the whole day was actually great 'cos I had a date that night (which was also great!) But there was one thing that bothered me that day.

The day was October 9, 2009. I couldn't sleep so entered the world of Twitter. It was rocking! I can soooo understand the lure of early morning tweeting. Everyone's up and about (except me, usually)! Something crossed my stream that reminded me that today was the day!

RT @IndiscreetTweet - Hey, Barack, you just won the Nobel Peace Prize! How you going to celebrate? "I'm going to bomb the moon!"

RT @MsJBell - Dear Nasa, I'm really happy for you & I'ma let you finish, but Dr Evil had one of the best plans 2 blow up the moon of ALL TIME!

Holy Cow! Nobel Peace prize and the LCROSS mission... and later that day I heard that Marge Simpson (yes! the cartoon Marge) was gracing the cover of Playboy. Yowsa! What a day! I could already form in my mind the plethora of disparaging remarks I would hear from my right leaning friends about the President's Nobel but I never expected this:

RT @1prdpgn @LCROSS_NASA - you people are idiots! EXPLORE DON'T DESTROY!

RT @AliceTi Dear NASA, LEAVE ALONE MOON, YOU ASSHOLES !

RT @Thaedydal: And pagan discussion sites are in uproar over the moon's bombing, "your bombing our goddess"

RT @Frnkds1234 - leave the moon alone poor Artemis when is the last time the government shot rockets at your God, Goddess, Gods or G ... http://lnk.ms/36bWv

RT @Wiccan_Sky - So disappointed some Pagans think the moon bombing was acceptible. Shame on you for treating our Goddess that way. =[

RT @tobascodagama @elles - Dear Elles, NASA is RAPING the moon with its PENIS-PROBES because they can't handle the FEMININE POWER of the MOON GODDESS. Love, Me.

RT@greenlivingzone - Selene the moon goddess was not happy about the earth people friday morning. "Bomb your home if you want but leave my beloved moon alone."

RT @felintan - Dear NASA... I pray to The Moon Goddess and now you're going to bomb a hole on her???? You'll be damned. (- -")

RT @FaePersephone - Those pieces of shit at NASA are going to bomb the Moon tomorrow! NO good will come of this! Goddess is going to get serious revenge!

RT - Dear Moon, we are so, so, so sorry for the stupid folly of petty men w/ cruel dreams. (via @Laetificavi)

_________________________________________________

Seriously!? My fellow bretheren were acting this way? The loving, accepting, kind, and rational pagan community? So I sent out a couple of Twitters of my own...

@DameVegas - Roommate just asked why we f#&%ing bombed the moon... Um, we all know that it was to check for WATER in the soil, right? C'mon people...

@DameVegas - How can be people be pissed at what was done to the moon, yet be unaffected by what we do to the planet we live on? Really?

____________________________________________

This was my retort to the myriad of Twitter comments that condemned NASA and the LCROSS mission... especially those comments that came from my fellow pagans who personified the moon as the "Goddess" herself. (The moon is a symbol of the goddess but the Earth herself is still our "mother.")

Now, I don't disagree that there may be repercussions from the actions of eventually utilizing the moon as a place for our growing population's expansion, or storage depot, or trash repository; nor do I disagree that we may be betting on the acquisition of future resources while simultaneously depleting what minimal supplies we already have. I also agree that we should know where the funding for this project came from ($79 million)... But then we should know from where the funding exists for any national project....

But... (I have to vent a minute...)

Firstly, the moon is venerated by almost every single culture in the world. It is not exclusive to neo-pagans or even ancient pagans. And it is not only seen as a symbol of the feminine, but has also been heralded as masculine. The moon is a SYMBOL. While it does directly effect our Mother Earth and our very existence, the "bombing" or "exploding" or "attacking" that the LCROSS conducted did not and will not, by any means, incur the "wrath of the Goddess" or harm it in any way because...

The moon has been bombarded by meteors and space debris for billions of years! And by objects much, much bigger than the LCROSS rocket(s). The purpose of this mission was too determine if there is water as ice located in the soil at the deepest parts of the coldest craters. "Water on the moon could change NASA's troubled plans for space exploration. It would make revisiting and putting a base on the moon far cheaper because the moon's water could be used."

And secondly, if you truly believe this one action is the catalyst for the fatalistic scenarios I know many of you are dreaming of... You tell me then... What are we supposed to do?

It is only natural for mankind to look to the heavens for answers. Answers to questions like overpopulation and dwindling resources to care for that overpopulation.

Should we do nothing?

Mankind, has for eons, dreamed of "exploring strange new worlds and new civilizations." Multitudes of stories have divined future earth and the future of humanity. All of it conjecture because the future is unknown until WE decide to do something. And even if you believe the future is predetermined... I'd bet money that the scenario you have in mind is not that pleasing either (if it's based in reality, that is.)

As for the problems we need to address: What do we do, I ask again?

Should we impose a restriction on childbearing and live with those consequences? We already know what they are. Should we condone mass genocide and war as a means of controlling the population? Should we restrict the use of our limited fossil fuels and other resources? What are the consequences of that? None of the scenarios I have in mind are very comely. How about yours?

A successful moon base could lead to even further exploration of our solar system. There are vast untapped resources believed to be hiding in just the asteroid belt alone. Water on the moon is just the very first step in the realization of the science fictions we have been desiring. But truth be told... I believe it's one of the few science fictions we actually NEED!

Erma/Atheona
Improvise! Adapt! Overcome!

"You may never know what results come of your action, but if you do nothing there will be no result"
~ Mahatma Gandhi

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"
~ Edmund Burke

"If you have tried to do something and failed, you are vastly better off than if you had tried to do nothing and succeeded."
~ Lloyd Jones

"The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing."
~ Albert Einstein

A Single Molecule

2009-09-13T03:10:00.000-07:00

A single molecule, one million times smaller than a grain of sand, pictured for first time
By Claire Bates
Last updated at 11:45 AM on 31st August 2009

It may look like a piece of honeycomb, but this lattice-shaped image is the first ever close-up view of a single molecule.

Scientists from IBM used an atomic force microscope (AFM) to reveal the chemical bonds within a molecule.

'This is the first time that all the atoms in a molecule have been imaged,' lead researcher Leo Gross said.

The delicate inner structure of a pentacene molecule has been imaged with an atomic force microscope

The researchers focused on a single molecule of pentacene, which is commonly used in solar cells. The rectangular-shaped organic molecule is made up of 22 carbon atoms and 14 hydrogen atoms.

In the image above the hexagonal shapes of the five carbon rings are clear and even the positions of the hydrogen atoms around the carbon rings can be seen.

To give some perspective, the space between the carbon rings is only 0.14 nanometers across, which is roughly one million times smaller than the diameter of a grain of sand.

Textbook model: A computer-generated image of how we're used to seeing a molecule represented with balls and sticks

'If you think about how a doctor uses an X-ray to image bones and organs inside the human body, we are using the atomic force microscope to image the atomic structures that are the backbones of individual molecules,' said IBM researcher Gerhard Meyer.

A 3D view showing how a single carbon monoxide molecule was used to create the image using a 'tuning fork' effect

The team from IBM Research Zurich said the results could have a huge impact of the field of nanotechnology, which seeks to understand and control some of the smallest objects known to mankind.

The AFM uses a sharp metal tip that acts like a tuning fork to measure the tiny forces between the tip and the molecule. This requires great precision as the tip moves within a nanometer of the sample.

'Above the skeleton of the molecular backbone (of the pentacene) you get a different detuning than above the surface the molecule is lying on,' Mr Gross said.

This detuning is then measured and converted into an image.

To stop the tip from absorbing the pentacene molecule, the researchers replaced the metal with a single molecule of carbon monoxide. This was found to be more stable and created weaker electrostatic attractions with the pentacene, creating a higher resolution image.

IBM researchers Nikolaj Moll, Reto Schlittler, Gerhard Meyer, Fabian Mohn and Leo Gross (l-r) stand behind an atomic force microscope Photo taken by Michael Lowry Image courtesy of IBM Research - Zurich

The experiment was also performed inside a high vacuum at the extremely cold temperature of -268C to avoid stray gas molecules or atomic vibrations from affecting the measurements.

'Eventually we want to investigate using molecules for molecular electronics,' Mr Gross said.

'We want to use molecules as wires or logic switches or elements.'

09/07/09

2009-09-07T19:08:00.001-07:00

In the cool we listen
To love songs & much sap
And play with our phone's buttons
To find the one we lack.

Staring from the table,
Sunglasses seem subdued:
The hard work's all outside
Where the sun's heat can be rude.

Improvise! Adapt! Overcome!

Vegas Skies 09/05/09

2009-09-05T18:12:00.000-07:00

I watched the sky go dark and stray
To God's face, Loki's laugh, to dragons at play.
Though silver lining did mostly fray
Rainbows played on edges gray.
Sunglasses riding on my head
Watching it's own skies of lead...
Hailstorms threaten; Rain will tread
On desert sands the radio said.

Why I Twitter!

2009-08-30T03:39:00.000-07:00

These were my Follow Friday recommendations for this last Friday. The first name with the @ symbol is the person who twittered it originally. On Twitter, I am Damevegas

http://twitter.com/damevegas

You should follow me!

@catconnor - Making blood... just go with it

@iamcomingundone - I don't know if I should throw a fork at him or tell him off. He's a total asshole.

@Rowyn75 - Ask, believe, receive...thank you Goddess...feeling much better

@aaronjhoward to @damevegas- However I follow you now just because your awesome. :)

@LisaPietsch to @amhartnett - SOCK MONKEY!

@poetrysue - Note to self it is still cool to excited about the d&d books

@MrsAaronHoward - OMG. I be married.

@LvRayn - My sparkle just set off the store alarm that can't be good ...danger close ;)

@jdholveck - There are just some songs that shouldn't be sung by drunk college kids. (drunk anybody!!!)

@poetrysue - I'm sweating in places you shouldn't sweat. Desert heat + humidity = ballsucky

@JennSicu to @TheDarlaShow - Sex. Oral is one of those things you have to do to shut your husband up.

@Timshol_lv - Today there will be a murder at desert lincoln...they got it coming........

@BJJBrotha to @SaraJayXXX - gotta love a girl who loves her meat (Shouldn't we all?)

@irisheyes - hmmm a good cup of coffee & staying in my PJs for a while....just me, and just a lazy Sunday.... =o)

@darthvader - Lost 15 followers to that last tweet. Didn't know that many Alaskans knew how to use Twitter.

@TheUserPool to @stephnienolen - I only judge a book by its cover; I don't actually read them.

@benmarvin - Something about women with lots of eye shadow that makes me think they give really good mouth hugs.

@ kejames - I hate this virus. Is 'hate' a strong word? Why yes. Yes it is.

@dutchrudder to @jennb8s - I sold 2 fingers,1 toe, a left tit & a right ball !!! :-)

@BrentSpiner -Look, Spot the cat was and actor. You're not allowed to keep the other actors.

@PiaVeleno - New Twit-rule: Whn U follow, intro yrslf or B blocked. U wldn't wlk in2 m'house &drink m'coffee w/o saying, "Hi Bitch".

@FunnyJoker - My mum and dad are always complaining about the sacrifices they make for me ….It’s not my fault they are druids

@WiccaCraftto @Fernwise: You're not a wiccan. You don't act like a wiccan. (Follow @Fernwise...and it's Wiccan!)

@EricMorelli - Nice and hot today. Only 106 today. Any cooler and I might need a wind breaker or something.

@Pagandrummer - i am a Druid.i am chubby,i am a drummer.i am a God,i am fond of ice cream

@elexiaz - O my... An officer... Hopefully not a gentleman. Calypso & I are destined for a great, fun-filled night.

@michaelmagical - Before you fall into twitter love, make sure you know what their breath smells like.

The best rec. EVER! - RT: @mmlinke1- MOTHERS: KEEP YOUR DAUGHTERS AWAY FROM @1prdpgn Check out his profile and BE WARNED! Follow @1prdpgn

2009-08-29T19:02:00.001-07:00

Silver-fingered palm fronds
Frantic in the wind,
Diamond stippled waters-
Golden as light dims.

Sunglasses on the table,
Watching as I float
In the warmth of waters
Of my famous moat.

Erma
Improvise! Adapt! Overcome!

Sex Clubs: Part II

2009-08-17T16:36:00.000-07:00

I met the girls and Poetrysue's friend and together we drove over to the club. The RR is not near the strip... which is what I would have expected. Instead it's off Boulder Highway, just past Tropicana. We turn on a small residential street where Dick's Tavern sits and weave our way through a couple of neighborhoods in the dark. It's a little scary. After a jaunt through some houses we can see the house swathed in red lights and head towards it. It's a beautiful home and despite the red, unobtrusive. There is parking on the side and in the back.

Cindy and I are still a little scared. Poetrysue is excited like a school girl. Cindy points out the large, white, windowless van.... LOL! We enter anyway.

As you walk into the foyer, there is a showcase of roosters, just like if you were staring at your Grandmother's curio cabinet. Entrance fee for couples is $30 and for single women $5. Single male prices fluctuate and are pretty high... take an adventurous woman with you for a better price. We went on a Monday, which got the couple a weeks pass for their fee... they were very happy!

We had brought a bottle of rum. The club provides all the mixers and only has tip jars out to collect monies. Bring your own booze and they'll serve you as long as it lasts. You can even take it home if you don't finish your bottle. The first room you enter has a bar and a collection of tables and chairs... like a country kitchen restaraunt. Go through an open doorway and to the right is a dance floor with small stage and to the left is another bar (closed) and a pool table. There is another collection of chairs and tables which I could see completely filled on the weekends when the place is said to be busy. In the right upper corner beyond the stage is a small lounge area where a large screen tv plays a porno. There are several dark, shadowy people sitting on the couches watching.

Straight ahead is a set of french doors that open onto an indoor pool. On the far side is a beautiful rocky waterfall. On the door side a round flat surface decorated with a rooster stencil serves as a sun bathers lounge and just off to its right is a hot tub. The pool is lit up green while the hot tubs lights cycle from red to green to purple. Around the edges of the pool area are chairs and tables for people to congregate. We choose some chairs near the entry. The pool looked inviting.

In the corner directly behind us was a small garden filled with plastic plants... but it still looked nice. In the corner across from us was another large corner garden with a large, concrete, horned animal sporting one of the largest penises you'll ever see. I thought it was a rabbit... which it might be. Gaudy, but nice... and fitting. The back, privacy overlaid window overlooks more parking and actually had a pretty nice view of Vegas lights. Unfortunately... your concentration won't be focused there.

We settled into our area and Poetrysue and her friend prepared for swimming. There is a couple already in the pool having a "great time". I hesitated joining so for two reasons... one... I bet there's a lot of sex going on in this pool and two... I have no suit. Just as I was having my doubts, a stark naked couple walked by and entered the main part of the house. I finish my smoke before I decide.

Poetrysue's friend has been here a few times, he tells us, and really likes the relaxed atmosphere. He pointed out the pool table again to me and Cindy, in case we don't want to hang out in the pool area and begins to tell us about the rest of the house but decides to show us instead. There are two sets of french doors besides the main doors we entered. To the left leads to a locker area (bring your own lock) and a bedroom... with a door that closes. A small hallway leads to two more bedrooms a bathroom and a shower.

Cindy and I explore the rest of the house on our own. Out the french doors on the right is the movie room as well as the orgy room. Holy crap! What a room! My first thought was King of the Mountain! The picture does not do it justice. There was a small show in the room later that Cindy was able to spy on from the pool area. Rules state you are allowed to just be a voyeur in the room if you like... just keep it quiet.

There are four other bedrooms and another restroom on the ground floor behind the stage area... one includes two beds. The upstairs is for couples (a man and woman) or single ladies only. We weren't allowed up. It was closed for the night.

Back at the pool, I decided to go swimming and since I didn't have a suit, I went nekkidd... Hey! When in Rome... The water was very nice and I was fascinated by the waterfall. I spent a lot of time under there thinking what it would be like with a certain someone. We were the only ones in the pool for a while. There was a lone man in the pool area as well as two other couples. Expect an age range of 35-50+ here... in fact, they ask that you be 25 and will ID you at the door.

One couple was a gentleman near the age of 50 with his 40 something year old partner who decided to plant himself on one of the tables to receive fellatio from her. It was very hard for nontwitterer Cindy to watch (or rather, not watch! LOL!) Another younger couple started to play as well and the single man at the pool area went and sat with them. We watched (or rather, not watched in utter fascination.)

I always have known I was a voyeur, just not at what level. These past two experiences have really opened my eyes to that. Watching acts of sex is pretty hot, in all its myriad of forms, but to admit to liking to watch has always been a bit embarrassing. It's nice knowing there are venues like this that serve the need if it ever arises. I'm not sure if I'll be a frequent visitor to any of these clubs when popping in a porno could probably suffice but there is a difference between filmed sex acts and live ones... so you never know.

Poetrysue stated that she really liked the fact the all the people we saw were so much older than her. It gives her great pleasure knowing that when she hits her golden years, she can and will be "getting action." It is a sweet sentiment. Cindy, on the other hand, was quite ruffled again... although not as much as when at the Power Exchange. The atmosphere at the RR is very laid back than at the PEx. Of course, again, it was Monday... I should probably go on a Friday or Saturday... maybe with a partner.

So back at the pool, after the older gentleman relieved himself to his partner and the couple plus one finished their jaunt in the chairs, the single man joined us on our end of the pool. Cindy was not in the water so he asked about her. We relayed it was her first time and she was very nervous. To be expected, he said. The man, "Bob", was a musician. Here from back East for a couple of days to play in a gig. Whenever he comes to town, he likes to come to the RR. His wife usually accompanies him. He enjoys watching her with other men, he said, especially big ones...

Sue and her friend then disappeared and all that was left were me and nontwitterer Cindy. Two single girls, alone, one of us nekkid. Cameron came and sat next to us and we learned a lot about him. We discussed why we were there and admitted to being voyeurs. He had been intermittently stroking himself and offered to "pop off" for us. Sure! and seated himself so we both had a good view. Again... so surreal. After, Cameron went off to clean himself up and we were alone again.

An older gentleman joined me in the pool. He had introduced himself earlier and I was being nice... gotta be careful doing that kind of thing in a place like this. He swam to our end of the pool and curtly asked if he could play with my breasts. I declined as gently as possible. I felt so bad... like I had led him on. I know I didn't, but I was naked and I did smile and say hi....

Poetrysue and her friend have returned to the RR and have thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Her friend was right... the atmosphere is very relaxed and serene. It's a place I could see myself actually hanging out in with a good friend who might be up for some adventure... and maybe even take it a step further... that will take a while though, I think.

Sex Clubs: Part I

2009-08-12T02:02:00.000-07:00

***Caution*** In order to get the full essence of my experiences I felt it necessary to mention things of a very sexual nature. If you are easily offended or are just a downright prude... please don't read any further. I hope I can convey the excitement of these adventures.

Several weeks ago, the girls and I (nontwitterer Cindy and PoetrySue) went on a rescue mission for another good friend; Rowyn. Rowyn and her friend were supposed to meet up at a club called the Power Exchange. The friend got lost and poor, little Rowyn was now at this (gasp) SEX club all on her lonesome... see the sarcasm... Rowyn, we find, did not need saving. It was a good excuse... hehehe...

We took with us a male friend of PoetrySue's who is always willing to try something new and fun. Thank goodness! Upon entrance, the first thing we saw was a gentleman in nothing, absolutely nothing... but a chainmail loincloth. Rowyn gave us the tour of the downstairs and we wandered in complete awe of the blatant sexuality... video screens with pornos playing endlessly bombarded our senses, couples clothed and otherwise passed us by perfectly content.... astounding! Then Rowyn took us upstairs...

There are themed rooms upstairs... there is a Roman room, a pirate room, a 50's room, a mad scientists room, a bondage room and more... and each of these rooms are doorless. It is a voyeur's paradise. People who decide to utilize these rooms are doing so at the expense of their privacy. All there is is a small white chain that can stretch across the doorway so no one else can enter the room.... but if the chain is not up.... help yourself, so they say.

As soon as we hit the top step, in the very first room, was a couple going at it... the man's hands were everywhere on his date... and I mean everywhere. A small party of observers clustered outside the chained door and nontwitterer Cindy's reaction was priceless. In fact, I don't think nontwitterer Cindy's bottom jaw ever left the floor the entire time we were there. As we made our way through the small landing area from which three of the rooms were adjoined we noticed that the cluster of people who were at the couples doorway were now following us girls around. Like flies to honey... we tightened our circle around PoetrySue's male friend... hoping they would think we were all with him.

After a brief respite on the patio for a smoke and the conversation of the next "show"... we re-entered the upstairs landing to find another room occupied with a man and woman... or so we thought. This room had no chain in the doorway so the fascinated (and brave) nontwitterer Cindy entered the room to find a gentleman on his knees in front of not a woman... but a man dressed as a woman. Nontwitterer Cindy's already large eyes became larger but her comment was that the gentleman was "working it like a champ!"

We sat upon a lounge seat and the men gathered closer. Somehow, whether subconsciously or just by chance, the four of us girls were seated arounded our male escort and the flies backed off, unceremoniously, I'm sure wondering at the swaggering prowess of our friend. He never even noticed.

An older gentleman approached nontwitterer Cindy, asked her if this was her first time here and told her she'd get more comfortable as time passed. He clapped her shoulder and turned his attention towards his female partner. When nontwitterer Cindy recognized him as the gentleman in the first room whose hands had been everywhere... she shuddered just a little... until we pointed out that it was a different hand. hehehe

We then saw this same busy, busy man across the room on his knees in front of his partner. She sat on one of those chairs shaped like a stiletto. He hiked up her already short skirt and started to work... without his hands this time. The haze of flies buzzing round us drifted towards the new pot of honey in the room. It seemed so surreal... like a scene from Invasion of the Bodysnatchers. I expected at any time these men to raise their arm, point, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. if they weren't busy jacking themselves off, that is.

We moved to the "show". A man was ready to whip a woman. He explained that this practice was not to denigrate the woman in any way. This is what she wants and this is what she earns. She is not allowed to cum unless given permission. This is their choice and we are welcome to stay and watch, but we must stay quiet so there are no accidents. Good enough.

She knelt upon a wooden horse with her bare ass facing the audience. Every part of her was exposed for everyone to see. There are buckles to hold her hands and feet in place but they remain unused. He starts light with a soft leather cat o'nine tails. The women in the audience wince along with the slave when he smacks her ass hard. Her body rises during some of the strikes and writhes at others. He changes devices several times... from paddles to even a palm frond, cut and laquered, spikes looking very menacing. She cries out in pain, moans with pleasure, and glares defiantly at her master. He moves to a riding crop and expertly strikes areas of her behind and exposed vagina. Some audience members leave...the stress in the shoulders (and privates) of everyone is high in the room. As he progresses we can feel for ourselves that the pain for the slave is more intense and sharper than a cat o'nine tails across the ass.

Then suddenly, and dramatically, the "master" has a dagger and begins to scrape it lightly across her skin. The room is hushed in a heavy silence. It's as if no one even wants to breathe. He plays the knife on her skin with expertise, never causing any lacerations and then in one swift and deft movement... the knife point is piercing her vagina area and everyone, men and women included, gasp loudly... leaving a vacuum. Her cry of pain (pleasure?) breaks the stillness and fills the void.

He continues with more slashes and stabbings and then uses the tip of the blade to stimulate her clitoris. The knife play culminates in her begging for permission to come. He allows her and the session is over. Nonchalantly, the "master" turns to the remainder of the audience and asks if anyone has any questions. Those that did stay move to the play area and pepper him. Every device is pulled off the wall for closer inspection. Afterwards it seemed like just another college class at the local communtity college....

So surreal.

Next up... Las Vegas' Oldest Swingers Club: The Red Rooster

Deeper In: Friends

2009-08-10T00:59:00.000-07:00

I had lunch with an good friend today. He was a little worried about my ramblings, I think. I hope I was able to allay any fears for my safety or mind he may have had. I was able to explain exactly what it was that caused the self confusion and, as always, he had wise words to relay. And was even able to poke a little fun, as all friends should...

I like having good friends. The ones I can talk to about anything. I have a few of which I can be honest with on so many different levels... the weird thing is that they are all different. I couldn't imagine discussing my sex life with one, for example, but with a couple of others... no qualms, whatsoever. With my friend today I'm able to discuss my other friends... with another, it's strictly business... politics, Wicca, the occult, world history past and present... Is that weird? To have so many different friends on which you discuss different subjects with?

What's great about these separate relationships is that a discussion with one can help to clarify the ideas you have about another. Today at lunch, I was able to solidify what it is that lends to my confusion... not an easy process when you're in the middle of the confusion. I was able to figure out the nuances as to why I'm so hung up on things like age differences and advocacy for the trodden upon. A discussion via twitter with another friend helped me clarify my whole religious belief system... I'm talking about how to better explain it in a concise and comprehensive idea that's easy to relay.... and with another friend, I am able to looker deeper within myself to find out what is it that is really bothering me....

It's helpful.... this myriad of friends I have.... as it should be for them to be called friends... but there is something wrong with it too, I think...

I've only had three friends I've ever fully invested in... you know... the one you share absolutely everything with... from your dirty, dark secrets... every opinion and judgment...every hope, dream, and desire.... one when I was very young... one in high school... and the last was an ex. I think that's why the walls are so thick and high... the last one did a number on me. Maybe its better to have the myriads instead of just one? Maybe the labyrinth is the way to go?

What would I prefer?

The ONE...

How about you?

Magic Siphon

2009-08-07T15:10:00.001-07:00

I had the pleasure of casting our ring tonite and the energy was high.
Not a misstep nor wasted movement... We moved like the finely crafted
gears of a precision timepiece.

The room was instantaneously disassembled, the ring was quickly
erected, the magic performed, the cakes and wine shared, and then it
was over after the closing and retrieval of the rope. Absolute
clockwork. Beautiful.

When complete, we set the room to rights and cooled off from the heat
generated by our round. I offered the saved cakes & wine to the Lord &
Lady while Sue cooked up a spaghetti storm.

Not more than an hour after our candle was lit and we were enjoying
the meal that Sue made did I get a query for calligraphy work. Magic
rocks!

After dinner, we three were still all giddy like schoolgirls. It was
asked before the ring about the possibility of being drained after. I
offered up my opinion on the matter.

Magic(k), as we utilize it, comes from everywhere around us: from the
earth below our feet and from the very molecules of the air we
breathe. In order to work your will upon those natural forces, you
must first become intuned to them... thus the purpose of ritual... And
once you are there, in tune, you yourself becomes the conduit of those
natural forces. So all those racing molecules, vibrating through you,
should have the effect of energizing you.... not draining you. If
you're being drained, imho, you're doing it wrong.

One of our observers, on the other hand, was completely drained by
rituals end. He gave himself fully to the work at hand, without guard,
sacrificing himself upon the pyre of good works. It only took a
minimal amount of time to bring him back up to rights. Must remember
to protect the observers on the outside before the next one.

All in a it was a good night. Working magic with close friends has a
tendency to open the mind and allows one to see old situations in a
new light. The energy expended on the periphery has a tendency to
energize and make happen other things you wouldn't imagine.

My fear of change had not subsided, but I move forward today with new
information and conviction. I move ahead a little more secure in the
steps I will be taking. Today I am the dawning rosy glow of optimism
and a smile is on my face. The good news is - is that there are no
fangs.

Erma
Improvise! Adapt! Overcome!

Voyeur

2009-08-06T03:50:00.000-07:00

Voyeur

One of the great things about being a devotee of Athena is that
shyness goes by the wayside. In fact, one of the great gray-eyed
goddess' epitaphs is that of the "Battle-Stirring" goddess. The Libra
in me lends to that as well. I am a great instigator of all things fun
and worthy. :-)

I was also once voted "best flirt." I am one of the best west of the
Mississippi. That, I'll agree with, too.

So you would think with these in combination... The lack of shyness,
the instigator of a good time, and with the ability to flirt... I
would never be lonely. You would think.

Tonight, while out with the girls... In a venue where the flirt is the
call for the night... You would think that I, of all people, would not
have any problems, whatsoever. Well... You're right. I had no problems.

I intimated, and flirted, and instigated. I bagged the goods, so to
speak, yet here I sit, at 0333 am, writing a blog, while in the very
next room is the actual thing I intimated.

*sigh*

I was able to watch, of course... not so dead that I still can't be a
voyeur... But is this what I have relegated myself too? The perpetual
non-participant? Sideline Sam?

I tried... (again... not so dead...) But I couldn't. Not this time.
There are other things gnawing at me now. Instead, I am content with
watching, and writing, and waiting.... The trenches have been built. I
fill the moat with water... Now.... where's that shark?

Erma
Improvise! Adapt! Overcome!

The Fear of Change

2009-08-05T02:22:00.000-07:00

Today I sat in a courtroom for over 4 hours for a friend who had to testify in a case of car theft. Her car had been stolen... by someone she was dating... along with a cell phone and cash exceeding $200. He has another court date in a couple of weeks. I'll be at her side again, but this time as a witness... since I was there when we saw him run from the police... in her car.

In the last month and a half I've done things and seen things so very different from who I am that I'm not sure of who I am anymore. I have agreed to a spur of the moment road trip. I have visited a sex club. I've chased down felons. I've dated those I never thought I would ever consider dating.

Change. It's not all its cracked up to be. This is the Cassandra warning I cried during the election season. This change we all want... or we think we want... can be hard and frightening. It breaks through any and all complacency you may have had. Change is exciting. Change can be dangerous.

It is in this change that I find myself wanting. I find myself aching in that wanting. It's been a very long time since I've felt that and it frightens me. More so because that which I want... is not something in my "normal" realm of want. But then again it is. Normal. It is the same as almost everyone wants.

I'm rambling now... close to the edge of revealing too much... too soon.

Suffice it to say that life is changing. As all life does. It shall circle around. As all life does. The season of complacency is done. I'm going back to meet myself once again but I know that who I find will be so very different than who I am now. I only hope the choices I make as I am now will be better than the choices I have made in the past. I only hope that when I decide to reveal the truth of who I really am that the change is not too much too bear. For me.

Again with the rambling.... it must be the fear. I am scared. It's a huge change. It's kind of nice. No, not really. Maybe I just need a change of scenery. A quick trip to the mountains. To another town. Away from people. Maybe I need to strengthen my walls. Bury it deep again. Mortar the chinks my Will has allowed to pass. They say that where there's a Will, there's a way... just don't know if I have the Will.

*sigh*

RT @beltain35 Hitler

2009-07-06T14:02:00.001-07:00

RT @beltain35 Hitler finds out Micha*l Jacks*n is dead: http://htxt.it/pV5R (via @MickPuck)

July 4, 1776

2009-07-04T12:48:00.000-07:00

Adopted by Congress on July 4, 1776)

The Unanimous Declaration of the Thirteen United States of America

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. --Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his assent to laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in the legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the legislative powers, incapable of annihilation, have returned to the people at large for their exercise; the state remaining in the meantime exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states; for that purpose obstructing the laws for naturalization of foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migration hither, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of lands.

He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to laws for establishing judiciary powers.

He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies without the consent of our legislature.

He has affected to render the military independent of and superior to civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his assent to their acts of pretended legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by mock trial, from punishment for any murders which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states:

For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing taxes on us without our consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury:

For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses:

For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring province, establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule in these colonies:

For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and altering fundamentally the forms of our governments:

For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection and waging war against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burned our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow citizens taken captive on the high seas to bear arms against their country, to become the executioners of their friends and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of warfare, is undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these oppressions we have petitioned for redress in the most humble terms: our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have we been wanting in attention to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace friends.

We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.

New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton

Massachusetts: John Hancock, Samual Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry

Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery

Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott

New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris

New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross

Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton

Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn

South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

Source: The Pennsylvania Packet, July 8, 1776

Redirect: Michael Has Left the Building by Ken Rasak & a preamble by me

2009-06-26T18:51:00.000-07:00

Redirect: Michael Has Left the Building by Ken Rasak & a preamble by me

Michael Jackson is dead. Twitter was awash with tears and love and jokes and hate yesterday. I tried to quell what vitriol I could but who am I? Jackson, on the other hand...and to me, whether self-proclaimed or not, was a pop and music icon who will leave a mark on the face of music and its accompanying dance much like that of Elvis or Lennon. While I am no fan of "alleged" pedophiles I'm an even worse fan of those who would scold others for being sad in the face of anyone's demise.

One of my very favorite bloggers penned this bit about the life and death of Michael Jackson. I couldn't say it any better. Please click on the link to his myspace blog to read it. Thanks.

Michael Has Left the Building
by Ken Rasak

Drag Me Away, Halston: Movie Review

2009-05-30T23:03:00.000-07:00

It must have been prom night. Dozens of children littered the front of the theatre area all awash in glitter and smiles....Crap! And the noise...OMG, a cacophony of twittering and tweening and giggling and gaggling... enough to drive a person crazy. And what the hell happened to prom fashion? When did it ever become legal to send your children off to a dance looking like Boulder Highway prostitutes? What are designers hawking as fashion these days?? And for fat girls?? Really??

The movie itself was entertaining... keep that word in mind. Drag Me To Hell is a funny and squirmy movie... not your standard hack and slash and with enough of the supernatural to freak you out a little. In all honesty, I'm a bit jaded when it comes to these kinds of films having been subject to them since the age of six so I wasn't scared at all. I did go with two grown women, though, who squealed and cringed and covered their eyes; and who sat in defensive positions most of the night. The entire theatre squealed with the appropriate scenes and you could feel the tension while waiting for something to happen. One group of kiddlings in the back had a young girl who liked to yell out her fear before anything happened which annoyed the entire audience. She was promptly told to "Shut the F**k up!"

This movie was made with audience participation in mind, I feel... after a scene where the young lady in the film asks what she's supposed to do, there was enough of a pause for someone from the audience to yell out..."Go to church!" and another, "Talk to Jesus!" That may have been as funny as any of the other comedic bits.

When you go, and you probably should, make sure you have an audience with you. Here was my twitter review in less that 140 characters:

"Theatre squealed lots: body fluids, orifice violations, Raimi humor. U WILL laugh, U WILL squirm, U WILL guess the end. Audience requ."

Go! Have fun!

Erma

Memorial Day

2009-05-24T12:22:00.000-07:00

"It is the Soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us Freedom of the Press.
It is the Soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us Freedom of Speech.
It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the Freedom to demonstrate.
It is the Soldier, not the lawyer,
Who has given us the right to a fair trial;
And it is the Soldier--who salutes the flag,
Who serves the flag, and
Whose coffin is draped by the flag--
Who allows the protester to burn the flag."
Charles M. Province

HEADQUARTERS GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC
General Orders No.11, WASHINGTON, D.C., May 5, 1868

The 30th day of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet church-yard in the land. In this observance no form of ceremony is prescribed, but posts and comrades will in their own way arrange such fitting services and testimonials of respect as circumstances may permit.

We are organized, comrades, as our regulations tell us, for the purpose among other things, "of preserving and strengthening those kind and fraternal feelings which have bound together the soldiers, sailors, and marines who united to suppress the late rebellion." What can aid more to assure this result than cherishing tenderly the memory of our heroic dead, who made their breasts a barricade between our country and its foes? Their soldier lives were the reveille of freedom to a race in chains, and their deaths the tattoo of rebellious tyranny in arms. We should guard their graves with sacred vigilance. All that the consecrated wealth and taste of the nation can add to their adornment and security is but a fitting tribute to the memory of her slain defenders. Let no wanton foot tread rudely on such hallowed grounds. Let pleasant paths invite the coming and going of reverent visitors and fond mourners. Let no vandalism of avarice or neglect, no ravages of time testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic.

If other eyes grow dull, other hands slack, and other hearts cold in the solemn trust, ours shall keep it well as long as the light and warmth of life remain to us.

Let us, then, at the time appointed gather around their sacred remains and garland the passionless mounds above them with the choicest flowers of spring-time; let us raise above them the dear old flag they saved from hishonor; let us in this solemn presence renew our pledges to aid and assist those whom they have left among us a sacred charge upon a nation's gratitude, the soldier's and sailor's widow and orphan.

It is the purpose of the Commander-in-Chief to inaugurate this observance with the hope that it will be kept up from year to year, while a survivor of the war remains to honor the memory of his departed comrades. He earnestly desires the public press to lend its friendly aid in bringing to the notice of comrades in all parts of the country in time for simultaneous compliance therewith.

Department commanders will use efforts to make this order effective.
By order of

JOHN A. LOGAN,
Commander-in-Chief

N.P. CHIPMAN,
Adjutant General

Official:
WM. T. COLLINS, A.A.G.

http://www.usmemorialday.org/order11.html

Whenever I see a soldier boy
No matter where it be
I give him salutation
for he means so much to me

He's not the boy we used to know
In store, at desk or plow
He's a defender of our faith
He's in the service now

He keeps Old Glory flying
on land and air and sea
He lives to make our homes secure
He dies to keep us free.

HOW TO OBSERVE MEMORIAL DAY

The "Memorial" in Memorial Day has been ignored by too many of us who are beneficiaries of those who have given the ultimate sacrifice. Often we do not observe the day as it should be, a day where we actively remember our ancestors, our family members, our loved ones, our neighbors, and our friends who have given the ultimate sacrifice:

by visiting cemeteries and placing flags or flowers on the graves of our fallen heroes.

by visiting memorials.

by flying the U.S. Flag at half-staff until noon.

by flying the 'POW/MIA Flag' as well (Section 1082 of the 1998 Defense Authorization Act).

by participating in a "National Moment of Remembrance": at 3 p.m. to pause and think upon the true meaning of the day, and for Taps to be played.

by renewing a pledge to aid the widows, widowers, and orphans of our falled dead, and to aid the disabled veterans.

Also, please consider adding your voice in support of the efforts to restore the traditional day of observance of Memorial Day back to May 30th (instead of "the last Monday in May"). This would help greatly to return the solemn meaning back to the day, and to help return minds and hearts to think upon the ultimate sacrifices made by those in service to our country. Just one day out of the year to honor our loved ones, our ancestors, our friends who died in conflicts and wars -- not to honor war, but those that died in those conflicts and wars.

http://www.usmemorialday.org/observe.htm

These men left an altar of glory on their land,
shining in all weather,
When they were enveloped by
the black mists of death.
But though they died
They are not dead,
for their courage raises them
in glory
From the rooms of Hell.

On the Spartans Fallen at Plataea

Simonides of Creos
c. battle of Thermopylae

Enjoy your BBQ's with relish!
Erma

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes Part I

2009-05-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Change is not always a good thing. I reminded many of this during the political season when I heard so many blindly chanting for Obama that they wanted change. Yes, yes, I know I supported and voted for Obama. Doesn't mean a truth isn't a truth. Change is not always a good thing.

There are several changes heading my way; several changes I'm already ensconced in. There's work, home, health, love life, beliefs, and ideas.... all big changes, yet, not necessarily bad ones. The optimist in me tells me that it’s all for the good, or will be. The realist is a little frightened of some.

I was going to dedicate this post to all the changes, but instead I'm going to focus just on one.

Work.

This is at the request of my mom who is part of this change; a very large part. I'm not sure what she hopes to accomplish with me posting this. She'll never read it. She'll never ask me to read it to her. Maybe she just wants her story heard. It doesn't even matter how the tale is told as long as the sympathy gained from it goes to her. Maybe. She's sure to get that from me. Hopefully I'll, be able to convey it to you.

I've never been one to dwell on something for a long time. Once done is done, it's over and there is nothing that can change it so why kvetch, whimper, whine, or bitch? It's a completely different thing when it's someone who is close to you that is affected. There is no way to get away from the reaction of an event from those you love. Well, there is but that doesn't make you a very good loved one, does it?

Don't get me wrong... there are times when I want to grab my mother by her shoulders and tell her to get over it whilst I shake her violently; to yell at her so she understands that the bitterness that she holds will only eat her up. There are other times that I want to run far, far away so I don't have to hear her say the ugly, vile, unbelievable things that issues forth from her. And then there are the times I just want to hold her tight so the action of my body pressed against hers can wick away all the pain and disappointment and anger that lives in the blackness of her heart and soul.

I know that it is only a temporary blackness though; a dye pellet in the liquid sunshine of her. The only fear I have is that the dye will stain. I'm trying every cleanser. Here is this one:

Work has always been at 7-Eleven. For my mom 7-Eleven has been her work for 28 years. Through her, for me, it's been 24 years. We worked for one franchise owner and this year, on February 6, 2009, he passed away. Five years ago, Don gathered together his lawyers and 7-Eleven corporate people and made it so that if in the event of his passing, my mom would get the store. She was named designee for the franchise and placed onto the checking account of his incorporation. Her future was secure... or so we thought.

Before Don passed away, things with his health had become very rough, pulling on emotions and strengths of everyone, but mostly on my mom from my vantage point. I've already covered this in another post so I won't go into detail here. We took a break for a week or two before we dived into the business part of what needed to be taken care of. We put in queries to corporate as to what needed to be done on our end to help whatever paperwork changeovers go smoothly. The answer we got should have been the first sign. It was a question: Why is she the designee?

This must have bothered them immensely because the first meeting they scheduled with my mom included one of Don's sons representing the estate. It could have been for legal reasons, not that they told us one way or the other, but they did have a paper for the son to sign... releasing them from any claim? The meeting included Enid and Jim from corporate, my mom and me, and the son. Enid informed us that even though my mom was named as the designate for the store she still had to qualify to be a franchisee. The steps to do this seemed simple enough: a credit check, a police check, a couple of tests, and training. We asked if I could be there by her side for all of it. They said yes. I knew we'd have no problems then.

Thirty something years ago, my mom took a class that helped her study for her test for her citizenship. She passed with flying colors. Since then she's had her husband and her children to do for her, because that is what we do. My dad was the one who checked homework and ensured we knew our lessons. My mom made sure we stayed fed and clothed properly. When my parents divorced it became my job to help out with such things as making sure she understood what the insurance was covering, or whether or not we needed to send a letter or make a call to cancel some service or other or whether or not we paid the first dollar amount on the bill or the second that included a late fee.

This is the way of my mom’s culture. This is the way of many cultures: children taking care of the parents…. even though my mom is famous for bailing out all of her children, still, we do what we can for her and if it’s as simple as spelling the word f-o-r-t-y so she can write a check, that’s what we do.

The credit check went flawlessly; the police check was a breeze so all that was left was a couple of tests and then onto training. The first test was scheduled for 8 am. We were there at 730. We waited till 8:10 and then they escorted my mom to the room. I wasn’t allowed in. I wasn’t allowed to be at her side through all of it. The test was on a computer. It took my mom over an hour to answer their questions before they brought her back out. We waited another 45 minutes before Enid sat down with us. The results were worse than bad.

My mom is a sixty year old Asian woman doesn’t know computers except for entering numbers for ordering. Hell, my job security came from the fact that neither my mom nor the boss, Don, wanted to touch a computer. Any analysis, reports, or printouts needed were all ensured by me. My mom was able to look at numbers, order up to a certain amount, and send it off.

“Let us take the test again,” I said. “You can make sure we don’t cheat. Just let me read her the questions and explain any concepts she doesn’t grasp. It’ll be her store. She’ll have final decision. Just like this test.”

“That’s not how it works,” Enid said, but she did go through the rest of what the processes to qualify would entail in case this test could be looked over. She handed us a franchise contract. She highlighted pertinent information that we/my mom would be tested on. She explained the licensing procedures and time-lines for changeover. She gave us a list (1 page, double column) of what was required of a franchisee. I noticed at the bottom it said, “All qualifications are at the discretion of 7-Eleven.”

One week stretched into two and then almost into three. Another meeting scheduled this time with a member of the estate. Enid and Jim refused my mom the franchise. Enid asked if I could franchise the store. The $125,000 franchise fee was impossible. They asked the estate if they wanted to franchise: $125,000? Out of the question. Two choices left. Attempt to sell the store or walk away and lose the capitol.

“Wow!” I said, “In this economy you must have people lined up to purchase a franchise.”

“Yes. We do,” was the answer, deflating me. They have three just waiting for the right store.

“You’re requirement list is qualified stating that you can overlook any or all of those requirements. My mom has been running the store for years while Don’s been sick and it’s still making money. Why would you want to lose a commodity like her?”

“If we make an exception this time we’ll have to make on all the time.”

“Who’s going to know? She makes you guys’ money.”

It fell on deaf ears. Their minds were made up. The decision was made to sell the store. The estate would handle the sale and the temporary licensing. My mom and I drove in silence for about 5 minutes before the explosion of curse words and questions spilled from us. We discussed things the whole way home. Conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory entered our minds and was dismissed as soon as it was voiced. Everything from the corporation wanting the $125,000 franchise fee to the boys wanting the store for themselves crossed our minds. (The franchise fee is required of everyone except…. the designee.)

It’s been a couple of months now. The store has a buyer. Licensing needs a few months to go through and then the changeover can begin. Dates of the changeover keep changing from the end of May to the middle of June to the end of it. My mom is especially bitter and it bleeds over from conversations just having to do with work. The last month has been filled with statements about how she can’t wait to be done here. The employees and the customers and corporate are irritating her more and more to the point of where once we are finally done, it should be a relief… but I know better.

We’ve discussed what to do next. Open a store next to the 7-Eleven and drive it under was one idea. Revenge seems sweet now. Start our own chain is another. With our combined knowledge and experience it would be easy enough. Relax and collect unemployment for as long as we can is another. After a quarter of a century of working, we deserve a break. Find a job starting at the bottom is another. Never to take on the responsibility of hiring, firing, cajoling, or counseling employees: never waking up at 3 am to drag ourselves to the store after a robbery: never having to confront a pregnant woman with six children in tow trying to shoplift a beer.

I’m treating it as a blessing. I’ll have more time to dedicate to my calligraphy business. I’ll have more time for writing. I’ve been spending a lot more time with my mom, able to help take care of her instead of the other way around. I make sure I have dinner with her as many times during the week that I can. I endure and try to quell or explain what I can. We shall overcome, improvise, and adapt. We will survive and do well. There is fear, yes, but not enough to keep us from doing what needs to be done. Change is coming. Change is pretty much here. Change is not always good but I think we’ll be just fine.

On a final note:

My Wicca religion is not something I hide from my family. I’ve had to rein in my mom telling her not to tell everyone that I’m a witch and that I cast spells and read tarot and bones and such. But, even then, some of the members of corporate knew that I practiced witchcraft.

After my mom was refused the store, Enid, the refuser, and our 7-Eleven liaison we’re discussing the sale of the store. A former liaison came in and was surprised to hear that it was the store that I worked at and made mention that I was a witch. After he left, she, in turn, asked my current liaison to ensure that I knew it wasn’t her that refused my mom. That in fact it was Jim, it was his decision. According to my liaison, ever since she gave us the news, her back has been hurting her and I’m pretty sure she believes that I am the cause. Priceless.

Iron Man, Star Trek NextGen, Good Friends, Good Conversation, and Good Coffee

2009-04-21T04:16:00.000-07:00

Iron Man, Star Trek NextGen, Good Friends, Good Conversation, and Good Coffee
originally posted May 9, 2008

In order of occurrence:

Today at work the new uniforms debuted. I am in geek heaven. We all look like the crew from Star Trek NextGen. I'm so dweebing on this. Normally, I don't wear a uniform to work since I'm almost always holed away in the office. I do now. Lol! I keep threatening to go to Toys-R-Us to pick up communicator badges for name tags. So far, we have Captain (me), Number 1 (my mom), Worf, 7 of 9, and Uhura. I'm expecting a Chakotay, Tucker , and Kess to round out the crew.

Too. Funny.

Went and saw Iron Man today. Great movie. I have a new found respect for Downey. He was perfect for the part of Stark, although from what I remember of Tony Stark from the comics, he was just a little more reserved than portrayed in the movie. Downey carried the arrogance well with just enough humour to make it charming. Paltrow was beautiful as ever as 'Pepper' Potts and Bridges looked great as Obediah with his bald head. Effects were awesome. Whatever CGI there was you could hardly tell.

During the fight scene between Iron Man and Iron Monger I couldn't help but think of a comment I had heard a little earlier in the week about how Iron Man was always a secondary character as opposed to a Wolverine or a Spiderman. The person who mentioned this couldn't understand why there would be a movie about a secondary character. Watching the fight scene gave me the sense that Iron Man isn't you're typical one on one, personable type of hero. This is a man inside an exoskeleton that can destroy tank with a single pulse of energy from his hand. Iron Man's strength and abilities are far too large for neighborhood street crimes and petty disputes between mutants (although I bet Magneto would have a field day.) There isn't a lot of call for a hero to go in and decimate an entire military force. Common depictions of such feats would be meddling in world affairs where we probably don't belong. That being the case, he would no longer be Iron Man. He'd be Bush.

I was able to catch the trailer for the new Edward Norton's the Incredible Hulk. It looks pretty cool, too. The CGI was much more blatant but I like Norton and pretty much all of the comic book based movies so I'll definitely be checking that one out at the theatres, too. Speed Racer looks like it will be half cartoon and half live action. I was never a fan so I'll probably wait for that one on dvd if I bother to watch it at all. And of course I'll be in the audience for when Mamma Mia is on the silver screen. I love Abba music. And Pierce Brosnan. I was invited to attend the midnight premiere of Indiana Jones. I'll be at that one too. I love summer movies.

Scarllettfeva and her handsome French husband joined me at the movies this afternoon. It was wonderful to see them. Afterwards we talked about gypsies and exploring adventures. We discussed giving reviews of lobster joints without eating the lobster. We talked about Americn food not really being all that American. Is there a true dish that can be completely American. We were thinking corn, but doesn't that originate is South America? We talked about foreign films, politics, and Wicca. It was great conversation and great company over great coffee. What a good day.

Thank you my Scarllett love and your sexy husband.

Flowers in the Attic

2009-03-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

I have seven employees under me at my little convenience store here in the middle of the desert, each with their own unique story and definite quirks. It makes life interesting, to say the least, since they all have a tendency to bring their lives to work with them when they come. No matter how many admonitions from me to leave their problems at home and to treat the job like a vacation away from those problems it never seem to fall on receptive ears. That’s probably our fault. We do treat everyone like family. Sometimes you don’t like parts of your family, from what I understand.

So, after a long night out socializing with the regular crew of friends, I stop back in the store to check on things and to finish off some details so I don’t have to worry about them in the morning. Before I have even unlocked the office door, taken off my coat, or put down my things one of those clerks tells me that she has a problem. It seems pretty serious. I take a moment to get settled in and then ask her to pull up a chair.

She repeats herself. "I have a problem. I really used to like Melinda."

"What? Is she stealing or something? What’s going on?" I’m intrigued, I admit. It has to be pretty serious for Dotti to be annoyed, or so I thought.

"No, she’s not stealing. Melinda’s friend was up here yesterday telling us all kinds of stories about her and mentioned that Melinda’s boyfriend is actually her nephew."

Honestly, my first reaction was "What?" more so because it had actually nothing to do with work. She repeated the charge and then completely started to freak out about it. She told tale of how she couldn’t sleep; how she couldn’t eat; how the very thought of it made her skin crawl illustrating, of course, with the goose bumps on her arm.

"Have you asked her about it?" I said, thinking to myself that this was something that didn’t belong at work. "Truly, this is none of our business. They are two consenting adults. What they do on their own time is their business. But if it bothers you so much, you should talk to her about it. You don’t know the whole story. At least get the story from the horse’s mouth, yeah?"

"It’s her sister’s son," the clerk whines, shuddering that she had to think about it again. Perhaps it was the thinking about it that was the true problem. If she didn’t think about everybody else’s problems so much maybe it wouldn’t affect her so.

"Maybe not by blood…and even then if it is by blood, it’s not like they’re doing it blatantly in front of everyone with nephew and aunt tattooed on their foreheads or anything. This is none of our business, Dotti."

"It’s morally wrong!" She decried.

"Whose morals?" I countered. "Mine? Yours?"

After a moment I looked up at her and said, "Wait, Aren’t you gay?"

originally posted April 1st, 2008

UPDATE:

So, the employee that had a problem with the rumour that another employee was dating her nephew had the opportunity to ask that employee if it was true and the answer is:

YES! but its no one's business so they weren't going to talk about it.

The offended clerk clerk seems okay or rather is otherwise distracted by dealing with her own nest of problems.

*Sigh*

UPDATE:

Another Update of the Flowers in the Attic

CPS services are threatening to take away the children of my clerk because of the consensual relationship she is having with her adult nephew even though they were called to her home by disgruntled family members for other false reasons. It seems she had recently asked her sister and cousins to move out since they were not contributing moneys or help in keeping the home a home. They trashed the place when they left and called CPS telling them that the children were living in squalor. Offhandedly they mentioned the nature of the relationship. When CPS came out to investigate, they found a very clean home. Perhaps CPS is giving her a hard time because she refused them entry without a warrant but just until she got her children dressed. I'll keep you posted.

I must add that just like before, this is hearsay, not from the original source. As soon as I find out if it is true I will let you know. I can't recall any stories that I have read of CPS here unjustly taking kids away from their parents, but I have heard stories through the grapevine. All unsubstantiated. I don't want to be the one to accuse CPS of being a detriment to families. I would like to believe they provide proper services for kids.

Vindication, Baby!

2009-03-29T02:54:00.000-07:00

For years I have been explaining to students that the magic (or witchcraft) we, as Wiccans, practice is scientifically based. I pulled my proofs from chemistry and physics mostly (what little I knew) and tried to make my lessons easy to understand, palatable enough to where the practice of magic was still appealing, and based in reality enough so that new Wiccans on the path wouldn't think they were performing something so fantastically outrageously supernatural; that the magic we practiced was just normal, everyday, grounded on earth and in science... magic.

Today I heard a story on NPR's (local KNPR 88.9) All Things Considered about a new toy .

"With both Mattel's "Mind Flex" and Uncle Milton's "The Force Trainer," the goal is to focus your thoughts in order to levitate a ball. There are no blinking lights or 3-D graphics -– just a wireless headset, a lightweight ball and a fan.

Both toys use a modified form of electroencephalography — or EEG — technology to measure electrical signals emitted by the brain, says Jim Sullivan of NeuroSky, the company that created the technology that makes the toys work.

The signals are applied to algorithms that were developed by researchers after careful study of people in various states of attention, Sullivan says. With the right focus, the signals trigger a fan. The harder the player concentrates, the stronger the fan blows — and the higher the ball elevates."

Woot! Vindication, baby!!

Zombie Kisses

2009-03-26T22:33:00.000-07:00

Today was going to be a great day. I could feel it to the core. You know those mornings you wake up and feel like saying Grrrreat! Like Tony the Tiger. I know for a lot of people, it does not happen that often. I would guess that I was lucky that most mornings I feel that way, except for the fact that I'm just naturally optimistic and I take it to heart that everyday is the start of a brand new day.

My friend Sam had text-ed me earlier in the week and we made plans to go to the movies today but he also gave me a teaser for something really special that he needed to show me. Ooh! I was giddy like a schoolgirl. I rushed through my morning ritual and had a whole 20 minutes to wait before he would be by to pick me up. I poured another cup of the near espresso coffee my mother had brewed, added some sweetener, half and half, and turned on the news. I did not hear a word of it.

I grabbed my cat, keys, and purse and headed out the door to wait on the porch. Kolchak sat beside me and snuggled up so I would scratch her back. I complied and stroked her long, black fur making sure I scratched the little part of her back directly in front of her tail. She arched her back and pushed up indicating she wanted me to scratch harder. I did.

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone bright and I had to squint my eyes whenever the glare flashed off the passing cars. There were still dead leaves littering the yard and I thought maybe I should rake them up while I waited - but then Sam's little pickup pulled up in front of the house. Kolchak jumped off the bench and began her morning by rolling in the dirt of the wintered lawn.

We waved to one another and I got in on the passengers side. The door squeaked horribly as I pulled it shut. The interior of the truck was pristine except for a small pile of Kleenex set in the centre of the dash next to the windshield. It reminded me of the mashed potato mountain in the Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The music sounded in my head. It was interrupted by the radio playing the local pop station and strains of Christina Aguilera's tinny crackling voice filled the air, albeit quietly.

"Good morning!" I said, probably a little too exuberantly. It didn't seem to bother Sam. He replied the same and we headed off down the road.

"So, where are we going?"

"I was out driving through Summerlin one afternoon," he said "and ran across this house that sits on the edge of a park. It was so cool. I thought you'd enjoy it."

The trip was just a straight shot up Cheyenne from my side of town so after 15 minutes and a few turns later we pulled up to a three-way crossroad that opened up into one of the largest parks I had ever seen. It went on for miles. The green grass had lightly yellowed and grayed for the winter and the dark stretching limbs of humongous trees lined the sides. The boughs were covered in small pink and white clusters of flowers. I rolled down the window and the light scent of them was on breeze.

I was reminded of when I was a little girl living in Japan. The air base we lived on had a park just like this complete with cherry blossom trees lining the sides and a row down the centre. This one was missing the row down the centre, but still, it was so familiar. I remember my mom loved taking us kids and we would run slaloming through the trees until we couldn't breathe anymore. Then we'd fall into an exhausted pile of coats and scarves and mittens until we caught our breaths only to do it again and sometimes again. Later we would insist that mom push us on the merry-go-round and we'd hang our heads off of it so we could watch the trees pass by upside down.

Sam turned right and followed the road for a short distance. He pulled over and started to get out. I followed suit and met him at the front of the truck. Pulling on my gloves and tightening my scarf, I looked around at the houses. At first I saw nothing out of the ordinary so I just followed Sam as he crossed the street, carefully looking in both directions before he did so. As we neared the other side, it struck me. It struck me so hard it almost hurt. I don't know how I had missed it to begin with.

The house was painted a deep "Ugh" purple. It looked pretty normal for a two-story saltbox-style home, except for the colour. It had a white front door in the bottom centre with two windows on either side. The upstairs windows echoed the downstairs and a circular stained glass window adorned the space between above the door. As we stepped up onto the curb it began to change. Parts of the house, it seemed, were on hinges of a sort and the house began to pull apart and reset itself. As the central top section lifted up and spun, surely turning everything inside upside down, it settled with the other side facing us. The wall of the other side was a lavender tinted glass that showed the interior. A man in a high-backed antique chair sat reading a paper and smoking a pipe. He noticed us on the sidewalk and waved graciously. We waved back.

The left side of the house separated into two; upstairs and downstairs. They pulled themselves away from the centre part and then these too, began to spin to expose the back side. The back side was painted a turquoise blue. Then they exchanged places and reset themselves down. The sound of whirring mechanisms and the whoosh of pistons expanding and contracting mingled with the cooing of the pigeons that covered the front lawn feeding on bushes made of popcorn. I looked again. The bushes were bare of their leaves and someone had strung them with strings of popcorn and berries. The top right of the house disconnected and started to spin slowly like a carousel at a state fair. Intermittent flashes from its own glass wall passed by as it rotated. Inside was a woman dressed like Beaver's mom who was ironing. The top left side of the house lifted again and it too began to spin revealing that the front had changed into its own glass wall displaying two small children playing with large Lego blocks.

Wow! I wonder why I had never heard of this house. Surely it would have made the news. Then I remembered where I get my news. The local public radio station was phenomenal at keeping me up to date on national news and even world wide news but it sorely lacked in the local news department. I remember when the bomb was found in a soda cup on someones car in the Luxor parking lot. I didn't learn about it until I watched the local eleven o'clock news that night on television. I only caught it because my roommate watches the news before he goes off to work. I was so peeved that I even wrote a letter asking why the hell it wasn't covered on MY radio station. I never got an answer.

The house made a few more adjustments and then it was the ugly, little, purple saltbox again. I had a feeling it would do the same routine again in about an hour. For some reason, most displays in Vegas are always on the hour, whether it was a volcano erupting or a pirate show.

Wow! Sam and I made our way back to the truck and I noticed a lot more cars had parked since we pulled up. The house was a regular attraction. As we began to make our way out of the park spot, two cars, one from either direction, were vying to get the precious parking space we occupied. Sam indicated he wanted to turn around but the two cars were not willing to give, so Sam didn't move. He exaggerated the shift back into park so the oncoming car could see and crossed his arms across his chest. After the momentary standoff, the car pulled away, clearing the area for Sam to turn around. We hadn't even made the full turn before the car behind had swooped in.

I rolled my window back down as we drove past the park. I leaned partially out to take in the full beauty and memories of those blossoming trees. How utterly beautiful they were. When we were just clear, Sam asked me to roll up my window. Despite the sunny day, the air was still cold and nipped at the warm interior that our jackets provided. Sam came to a stop at a sign and whistled as he looked into his rear-view mirror. I turned to look. We had left the house just in time. Cars filled the street behind us and the revving of engines and foul curses filled the distance between us. Sam had turned to look as well. 'Objects are closer than they appear' in your rear-view and side mirrors, so seeing it for what it truly was must have been too tempting. A melee ensued between two families. One trying to cross the street and one trying to park. The family in the car piled out and arms waved in the air. What a spectacle.

While turning back to face forward again, we found ourselves in the awkward position of being nose to nose with my long dark hair tangled in his beard. We were both smiling, which I noticed made his eyes sparkle, despite a small crust of sleep still on the outside of his right eye. I also noticed that he smelled nice, wearing some type of light cologne mingled with the clean scent of Zest or Irish Spring and Bounce fabric softener. I consciously thought about the little things I was noticing, being in such close proximity. The coarseness of the hair in his beard, the several colours that ranged from silver to dark red, and the way his face wrinkled around the smile he wore. His eyebrows had the same variegated colouring as the rest of his facial hair. One stray hair hung down into the frame of his eye. It took everything out of me to not brush it back up. His shirt was a clean, blue, soft cotton flannel but a small fold was indented in his collar. I couldn't resist.

My hand reached out to brush the eyebrow hair that bothered me back up to where it belonged and then Sam leaned in to kiss me. Like Pavlov's dog, my eyes closed instantly so I could heighten the other senses. The smell of him was stronger and I could smell his light, clean perspiration. I could tell that he had washed his hair this morning and a faint scent of apples told tale of Paul Mitchell. The truck imperceptibly rumbled beneath us and I could hear the wind against the antenna. The clicking of his turn signal seemed to work as a metronome to the beating of the seconds of time we spent in this place. No tongues left their caverns so there was no taste - but the feeling... the feelings... well made up for it.

The roughness of his beard became like silk strands across my cheek. His hair brushed against my forehead as if dainty little fairies were clearing the fields with their wings. The pressure of the kiss was soft, easing, a wanting for more, a longing. The longing extended down into the cavern of my chest as if some invisible hand had gently moved the organs aside to leave that void, that longing that needed to be filled. The void continued into my gut and it began to tense with its own hunger.

I took in a deep breath sucking in the whole of him. In Thai culture*, a deep intake of breath anywhere near the head is akin to the touching of lips in a kiss: the co-mingling of auras, the sharing of space, the deep inhalation of the other's souls so you can become one. I grew up with these deep breath kisses with my mom and thought it made so much sense in this moment. I wondered if the French breathed in when they did their cheek to cheek greeting. Then we broke apart. The smiles remaining on our lips.

I turned back round and asked what movie we were going to see. He mumbled something with the word zombie in it and that was enough for me. I love zombie movies. We drove away from the stop sign and headed for the theatre.

Two weeks later (I know, I know) Two weeks later, I pulled my truck up into the gravel driveway of Sam's mother's house. The crunch of the small white stones was overwhelming, even drowning out the high banjo strings coming over the radio. I turned the radio off, stopped the truck and just sat there for a minute. I hadn't talked to Sam since the day of the kiss. The movie had been great and lunch afterwords was filled with great conversation, but we hadn't spoken about the kiss. Not a mention. Not a word.

That emptiness, that longing was still with me and I thought maybe today, the first chance I could get, I would at the very least ask him if he knew what it had been. Sam and I had been friends for quite a while, but had never exchanged more than a friendly hug. I had never thought of him that way, well, maybe I had a little, but I believed he had never of me. It was probably nothing. Just a momentary lapse of consciousness on both parts, but still - I couldn't let it go.

I had nearly worked myself up into a frenzy of knotted stress thinking about that brush between us, but the wives' tales are true. Time does heal all things. Two weeks ago when we had parted I could not stop thinking about anything but Sam and that damned kiss. The gnawing in my gut was strong, intense, and unrelenting for the two to three days after. It was like I had fallen in love all over again, but fourteen days later and the sensation was no longer so overwhelming. Instead it was like that small pain that pronounced itself loudly when directly thinking about it-but was tolerable, subsiding into the background, when you weren't. Another two weeks and I probably would have forgotten about it all together. But he had text-ed again, inviting me over for a bar-b-q at his mom's with his family. I was so nervous.

The front of the house was covered in redwood which set off the white of the stones making up the drive. Ferns flanked the front door. A wide, red, silk ribbon hung from the doorknob proclaiming something in Asian. It probably said "No Solicitors." I laughed at my own joke. A small sign on the door, printed in crayon on lined school paper said, "It's open. Come in." I opened the door and walked through the doorway. I was expecting a foyer. Instead I got a garden open to the bright, blue sky above. I stood on a patio of redwood. It traveled right and left cornered and traveled again, squared off again and met in the middle somewhere beyond all the foliage in the centre. This side of the rectangular patio was a short side and only one story. The two long sides on my right and left and the side across from me were two stories with another redwood walkway allowing access to rooms up there.

The centre was filled with a profusion of foliage. I recognized cedar and date palms. I visually picked out snapdragons and morning glories. There were ferns and flowers, trees and bushes all mixed in some mish-mash of growth, but it was beautiful. A couple of benches were sticking out from under a willow tree and a stone framed path meandered through the melee. I could hear the trickling of water and supposed a fountain of some sort was in there behind all the plumage of colours.

Suddenly, I was near overrun by a horde of children who looked like sheep escaping a wolf all wrapped warmly in their woolen sweaters. The sound of their boots and shoes hitting the redwood planks echoed throughout the compound. Following them was a gaggle of ladies, all Anglo-Saxon, walking slowly in their printed dresses as they chatted. They reminded me of nuns just released from a church service and were discussing the flair of the speaker who gave the service. As they rounded the corner, one younger lady broke away from the pack and hurried towards me. "You must be Erma," she said with a lilt of a southern drawl in her voice as she grabbed my hand. I replied affirmatively and she started chattering away about how delighted she was to meet me and started introducing me to all the ladies who had finally caught up. There was a Ruth, a Beth, a Diane, and a Jane. Sara and Shirley called out their names and a very old woman, the crone of the group, was named Ann. My liaison to the family was named Vanna, as in the game show, and she did a little vogue pose that made the ladies erupt into a twitter of laughter.

She explained that all the boys were out back trying to outdo each other with their knowledge of grilling, including Sam, who had done nothing but speak about me for the last two weeks. My eyebrows piqued at this, but I held myself in reserve as best I could and followed the ladies around the patio, just in case it was nothing. The kids were running around the upstairs patio and Vanna spoke louder to be heard above the din of clattering boards. As we rounded the next corner, there was Sam, with a huge grin on his face as he saw me. My stomach made a knot and blared its triumph over my trying to suppress it. His arms stretched out to his sides and he exclaimed, "You made it!" I returned his smile. Hmm, another good sign?

He exaggerated pushing himself along the side of the building so the ladies could pass and fell into step beside me. His arm went round my shoulders and he squeezed me gently to him. We exchanged pleasantries and he deliberately slowed our pace so the ladies could make some distance. When they finally rounded the corner he stopped and turned me to look at him. "I was so nervous about seeing you today, that I may have drank a little too much." In his hand he held a dark amber bottle and he hiccuped quietly. The smell about him of two weeks ago was suddenly replaced by the overpowering smell of beer and I had to agree whole-heartedly. I asked if it would be better if I left and we saw each other some other time but he insisted that he was okay.

He set the beer bottle down on the floorboard and took my hand to lead me down the steps into the garden below. There were only three steps. On the first one, he almost fell and it took near all my strength to hold him upright. On the second one he began to teeter again but righted himself. I let him go and stepped back. He held his arms out to his sides again but this time to balance himself. I asked if he was okay and he nodded, then burped loudly. He covered his mouth and waved as if in apology and then he doubled over viciously clamping his hand to his mouth and holding his belly. From between his fingers shot streams of vomit and foam, honey coloured, like beer. He dropped the hand from his mouth and then, as if he were Linda Blair playing the part of Regan possessed by the devil himself from the movie 'The Exorcist,' Sam vomited violently coating the entire statue of a cupid that stood in the garden.

Then I woke up. Isn't that the way? *Whew*.

*Thai culture- I did not grow up in Thailand, so I'm not sure if this is a truly prevalent custom throughout Thailand or not, but I do have a Thai mother who kissed us like this as we were growing up. I tried asking her about it; if all Thai people do it and if she knew why, but my mom is a very practical woman and said, "To smell people, Ohma." so the supposition of drinking in the soul for co-mingling with a loved one is mine alone until someone else backs me up.

originally posted Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Convenient Rockstar

2009-03-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

I have an employee...um, let me correct that. I had an employee that I had to let go. That is being nice. I fired her. Shame. She was a pretty good worker, too.

This one is no relation to the one with a clamor of children, nor is it Boom-boom Mancini. (Are you really surprised I kept her?)

Anyhow, I should probably start from the beginning. I'm going to call her Gilberta because I don't know anyone by that name, nor would I want to. (No offense to any real Gilberta's out there. I'm thinking of Gilbert Godfrey here.)

Gilberta was the model employee. She was always in uniform. She was always at least half an hour early for her shift. She came in on short notice if someone else had flaked and was always willing to help out with some small task even if she wasn't on the clock. I could count on her to keep her eyes open for shoplifters and employee thefts. She got along with everyone and she was normally very friendly. The only problems I had ever encountered with Gilberta was that on rare occasion she hadn't been able to wash her clothes before her shift and her personal hygiene began to slack off for a few days as she was transferring from her stable home into a weekly apartment.

I always took into account the moves and the marital woes she was suffering and so gently reminded her of what needed to be changed and she always complied. When she requested a schedule shift so she could get some sleep in a bed, I happily cooperated. (A weekly apartment is not a very suitable place for a family of four to be living so sleeping in chairs or on the floor is sometimes a necessity.) I helped her out, in terms of work, as much as possible. Anything we could afford to give her, we did, including raises, loans, and overtime. My mother, The Saint, went even further by buying gross amounts of food at Costco and winter wear for the kids. Gilberta was worth it.

The employees have the ability to purchase items during the week and it is automatically removed from their check. We call it "putting it on my tab." In order to protect the store from employees that are 'tabbing' more than their check will be we have limits on 'putting things on your tab.' I, being management and the ever sneaky Libran diplomat usually says that the limits are so that you will actually have a check when it comes payday. It's not a lie. It may not be very much of a paycheck but at least you'll have some cash in your pocket, right? Every week, Gilberta always asked if she could go over 'on her tab.' I invariably said yes.

Gilberta is pretty typical of the women I see in my line of work. She has two great kids and a husband that can't seem to provide for his family. From what I've seen of him, and admittedly, it's not much, there seems to be nothing physically wrong with him, yet he never seems to be trying or helping. Excuses abound for why he doesn't many of which may be valid or not. She's too proud to ask for assistance and so bears the brunt of supporting a family of four on her meager paycheck from a convenience store.

My posted time for the distribution of paychecks is 3 pm. On paydays, Gilberta and her husband usually arrive at noon, just in case they are ready early, and if they are not, they will sit the three hours and wait. I feel so bad that sometimes I rush to get the checks processed and so occasionally will forget to deduct any loans or to check them thoroughly for the correct tab purchase amounts, resulting in recalling everyone to let them know.

A few days ago in the morning, while sifting through receipts I found a tightly taped note from another employee that said, "Gilberta drank a Rockstar without paying for it around 9 pm. I think she drank more than one." A Rockstar is a very popular energy drink and costs like two bucks. I sigh deeply and put the note aside to check the video later. Eating and drinking items and not paying for them is what we call 'grazing.' It's pretty prevalent in our world. I guess it would be kind of like taking a box of staples home from your office job. I presume you can get tired of all the free fountain soda, slushees, and coffee you can drink and the allowable amount of grill items you can eat per shift that sometimes you just need a Rockstar. Whatever. Not a fire-able offense, right?

After finishing all the paperwork, refreshing my exquisitely delicious caramel machiatto with a spritz of sugar free vanilla and cinnamon and nutmeg sprinklings (I LOVE our coffee bar!), and stretching my legs, I settle in to watch some security videos. It's digital, so it's super easy to point, click, search, and save. Immediately, I find the video of what I need to see. *Gasp!* It's not just a Rockstar. It's a Rockstar 21. *Gasp* again! Rockstar 21 is an alcoholic beverage. She's not just grazing; she's grazing drunk.

On a hunch, I click back a few hours and let the video play. It's not just ONE Rockstar 21. It's seven. S-E-V-E-N!!! That's almost one per hour. Hunch still niggling has me clicking back on the day before. Four. I check the day before that. Five. Oh! My! God! I am Jack's dumbfounded mother. I call the other manager into the office (that would be my mom.) I show her the video. I layout the totals I have so far. She asks me what I want to do. "We have to let her go," I said. "She's drinking on shift, which means we can lose our liquor license, and who knows what else she's doing. She could get hurt, she could be giving back the wrong change in her drunken stupor, she could be robbing us blind." My mom agrees and we decide to do so the next day. Payday, the last day of the pay period.

I spend the rest of the day watching two weeks of video, snapshooting or saving the video bits I need, and getting fed and FICA numbers from payroll. It's a late day. The next morning I have an interview with a replacement set up by my mom. She looks good. I hire her. Gilberta is due in at noon. I have a few hours to get the paperwork done and get her paycheck ready to go.

Gilberta and husband arrive at 11am. Crap. I'm not ready. I haven't psyched myself up for this part of the job. I don't have my game face on yet. I am caught unawares. Crap! Crap! Crap! Thankfully, I get a customer who wants multiple servings off the grill. I can utilize bun-spreading time to prep. Whew. The dogs are sold and I think I'm ready, so I call my mom to cover the register and I head into the office. I ask Gilberta to pull up a chair.

My clerks all seem to know that if I ask them to pull up a chair we're heading for a counseling session of some sort. She says, "What did I do?" in a playful voice. I don't smile. I'm in the game.

She takes a seat and immediately I say, "Gilberta, we're going to have to let you go."

"I know why," she replies coolly, almost whispering. I nod silently.

"It's because of the box I took out of the cooler."

Box? What box? A whole box? I feign knowledge. "That too." I say calmly.

"And the Rockstar," she says.

Playing the hunch again, I say, "And that too." I look directly at her.

"I swear I never took more than $2.50 for the bus most days. I was going to pay it back."

And then the pleading begins. She says she is a good employee. I agree. That's why this was hard. She can't afford to lose her job; she has kids. Another reason this is hard but she should have thought of that before she did what she did. It will never happen again, she was just under a lot of stress. How can I trust that? Her problems at home and otherwise still exist. She can stop the drinking on the job; she had been quit for 21 years. It's not just that.

And then the elongated shrill of "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" echoes through the back of the store. She physically gets on her knees at my feet. Tears are streaming from her eyes. Her breath is in short hiccupped bursts. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Erma, Pleeeeeeease. I swear on the life of my child none of it will ever happen again."

Why do people do that? Why do people swear on the life of someone else? Whether living or dead? Giving an oath is not a casual thing. You can't say "I swear" and think there will be no repercussions for not living up to it. I have never understood how people can speak those words so casually.

I am so uncomfortable at this point. In all my years of hiring and firing, I've never experienced anyone on their knees before. I pull out my ace in the hole; or so I thought. "Look, this is not just my decision. This comes from my mom and from Don. There's nothing I can do for you." Again the pleading resounds through the entirely too small office. She begs to talk to my mom about it. "Is that really fair, Gilberta? You screwed up. There are consequences for that. You don't need to talk to my mom. (Feel the force.) You understand fully this is what needs to be. (My fingers imperceptibly wave from left to right under the desk.) Come on, let's go get your check."

The force was not with me that day. Crap. I got up to move past her and she grabs my arm. That shrill cry is again deafening to my ears. She asks to talk to my mom again. I give in. "Alright, alright, I'll ask her to come talk to you." I go out front and let my mom know what's going on. I warn her and suggest she not go too far back into the back area or she'll get trapped. I try to help in boosting her resolve. She disappears into the back and returns in just over a minute. She hands me the phone and tells me to dial Don's number. She plans on calling the big boss. This is good, I think. He's not here. He'll say "No!" over the phone and we'll be done. Good plan.

Bad plan. My mom hands the phone to Gilberta. Both of us are confident that Don will have our back. Gilberta hands the phone right back to my mom and then after a very brief conversation she hangs up. My mom says, "Don said its up to us." I just stare at her for a moment unbelieving.

"What do you want to do?" I look at her expectantly. She hurtles every ball to my side of the court with a single movement. She shrugs her shoulders. Crap. I fix my determination to end this now and lead Gilberta back to the office. The pleading starts up as soon as we cross the threshold. I have her sit while I stand. She gets down on her knees again. She cries that she has kids to feed. She cries that she can't depend on her husband and that he'll be mad at her. She cries that she'll never, ever, EVER do it again, any of it.

I give in. I'm such a shmuck. Pansy-assed shmuck.

She works the next day, Friday, but only to put away the groceries and then I schedule her off for two days. Don comes in the next morning and he's not happy. I counter with, "You would have done the same thing if she was crying at your feet. All you had to do to finish it was say no." Of course, all I had to do to finish it was say no. All my mom had to do to finish it was to say no. What a team we make, eh?

Now I have to figure out what to do with the new girl that I hired. She was supposed to be the replacement. Now I have no one to replace and payroll is already stretched to its limit. I put her in for three days of training, at the least. I'm sure I can figure something out.

Saturday morning is a good morning. I have plans for the day, church fundraiser in the evening and well, I just woke up in a really good mood. And then I got to work. While putting away the groceries Friday night, Gilberta purchased a bottle of bright blue Boonesfarm wine, the kind teenagers get drunk on at the parties they frequent with all their teenage friends. It was only an hour into her shift. I forward the video to see what she does with it. She's off camera. I switch to when she's leaving for the night to see if it is in her bag. The bag is empty as she packs it with food she has put on her tab. I am Jack's disappointed heart. I fired her for good yesterday.

I assume I'm the worst kind of boss to have. I'm the kind that wants to be understanding and helpful instead of tyrannical and uncompassionate. I ask questions like "What can I do as a boss to make the job smoother for you so you can execute better?" or "Is something going on at home that's affecting your performance at work? Do you need some time off?"

Perhaps I need to change that.

I'm one of those people that do well with instructions. Tell me what to do and I'll do it. If I have questions, I ask. At first I gathered everyone was like this. This is not so. Through the years I've tried many methods of being a boss. The understanding way seems to work so much better. But, I also know that some people need the hard road. I see that all the time, too. People hate their boss, but man, they sure can get their work done. Sometimes I think I should be that way. Maybe I wouldn't get walked all over as much. Maybe my compassion wouldn't be mistaken for softness.

I've been told that my attitude, at times, seems condescending. My belief is that one only sees it as condescending if you already have the expectation that no one, especially a boss, could be a nice person. This convenience business that I am in is really easy. The hardest part is dealing with the public. People come in for Gatorade to quench a hard days work. They come in for cigarettes so they can deal with visiting family members. They come in for candy to reward or quiet their kids. They come in for beer to escape their rough day. They come in for all reasons and in all moods and you have to adjust accordingly. The rest of the job is cake. You do a little cleaning. You do a little stocking. You take in money and count back change. The most real thinking you have to do for the job is figuring out if you're over or short for the day and that only involves the most basic of mathematics. We even provide the calculators. If you're on time, in uniform, and ready to work, you and I will get along great. Otherwise, I may have to ask you to take a chair, young padawan.

originally posted Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Fellow Man

2009-03-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Thursday, March 19, 2009: 2030 hours

"Are you married?"

"No, I am not."

"Are you single?" I look at this young man who just bummed a cigarette from me. He stares at me from under a fall of dark hair, his eyes a piercing blue.

"Yes, I am," I reply, a smile on my lips.

"Do you have a place," he asks, taking a long drag illuminating his chiseled, young features in an orange glow. My anticipation of where this is leading is bordering on lunatic, but not because he is attractive and not because I am the slightest bit interested. On the contrary, I can see by the shininess of his hair that it hasn't been washed in a while. I can tell by the backpack he carries and the slouch in his shoulders that this is a young man defeated, probably homeless, hoping to score with some old fat lady for a free meal, a shower, some comfort and probably sleep. I reply in the affirmative. I do have a place.

"Am I hot?"

I bristle at his audacity. I stifle the guffawing I drastically want to release. I am struck dumb at his question. I look inside the coffee shop, desperate for Hoag or Sue to come save me. They're both busy. I look back at the poor soul 6 feet from me. He is "hot", for a boy. He must be barely over the age of 20. I am torn between wanting to save him from himself, from his predicament and from wanting to throw him to the wolves, to punish him for his improvidence and impertinence.

"Why yes, yes you are," I finally say, finding it difficult to hide my patronization, "for someone so young," His disappointment emanates in a perceivable ripple. I feel sad.

"Don't you like sex?" I look again for Hoag and Sue. Why I just don't walk away baffles me, but only for a moment. I'm here to collect the experience... I just don't want the whole experience of Mr. Blue Eyes, thank you very much.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Just not with you." My sadness was short lived so there was no suppression of my disdain this time. I go back into the cafe, sit down next to Hoag, and during the break in the conversation, I relay what just happened. Both Hoag and Sue ask me what I'm still doing here, with them. I shake my head at their dismissal of my principles.

I wondered today if I should have tried to do something to help him. Offered him a ride to a shelter, try to help him contact his family or friends, treat him to a meal and I felt a little bad that I didn't. On the other hand I feel justified in rebuffing him. His insolent manipulation is mortar for the walls I build. Damn, that wall's getting high.

Erma's Stomping Grounds

Dating Rules

Saving Our Ass!

A Single Molecule

09/07/09

Vegas Skies 09/05/09

Why I Twitter!

Sex Clubs: Part II

Sex Clubs: Part I

Deeper In: Friends

Magic Siphon

Voyeur

The Fear of Change

RT @beltain35 Hitler

July 4, 1776

Redirect: Michael Has Left the Building by Ken Rasak & a preamble by me

Drag Me Away, Halston: Movie Review

Memorial Day

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes Part I

Iron Man, Star Trek NextGen, Good Friends, Good Conversation, and Good Coffee

Flowers in the Attic

Vindication, Baby!

Zombie Kisses

COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

Convenient Rockstar

COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

Fellow Man

COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

Erma's Stomping Grounds

Dating Rules

Saving Our Ass!

A Single Molecule

09/07/09

Vegas Skies 09/05/09

Why I Twitter!

Sex Clubs: Part II

Sex Clubs: Part I

Deeper In: Friends

Magic Siphon

Voyeur

The Fear of Change

RT @beltain35 Hitler

July 4, 1776

Redirect: Michael Has Left the Building by Ken Rasak & a preamble by me

Drag Me Away, Halston: Movie Review

Memorial Day

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes Part I

Iron Man, Star Trek NextGen, Good Friends, Good Conversation, and Good Coffee

Flowers in the Attic

Vindication, Baby!

Zombie Kisses

COME PLAY WITH ME!FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

Convenient Rockstar

COME PLAY WITH ME!FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

Fellow Man

COME PLAY WITH ME!FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL

COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL