New Calling

This year i morphed into a smarmy Goth Captain Manson. Cappy became "Elvira the Mortal Immortal." A swashbuckling goth pirate and a vampire seductress. We took our alter egos on the road for a night of debauchery and public acts of wackiness. i pillaged for drinks and yummy appetizers. Cappy distracted people with her deathlike pallor, and brought a 17-month old bumblebee to tears on two occasions. Good times. Not good however, for a budding flu bug that's kicking me down as i type this.

Back in the day, pre-play dates, gps, ebay, and kid leashes, my brother and our friends would set out for hours into the neighborhood on Halloween. After a few hours, we'd return home with our large plastic pumpkin buckets filled to the brim. We'd turn over the pumpkins in the living room and meticulously divide up the candies. All candies sour, apple, cinnamon, and those nasty Necco wafers to him, and all chocolates, lollies, and chewy things for me.

Costumes of yesteryear:

-Jaws 4th grade
I was very sick a week before Halloween, but felt better the day of. By the time my mom and i got to the local drug store, the only costume left was Jaws. Great. The entire costume was packed into plastic bag which consisted of: a plastic shark mask, and a plastic frontal cape with "JAWS" written across the chest and a peaceful beach scene. i was a walking billboard for the movie. People didn't know if i was a girl or boy. My dad walked me around to a few houses on our block. We went to Universal Studios that year. i somehow ended up with a Jaws beach towel. It was a Jaws year and i hated Jaws, actually. Can i type that one more time in this paragraph? Jaws. Jesus.

-Cowgirl: 5th grade
All was fun and games until a neighbor hooligan sprayed shaving cream all over my new sheepskin leather vest that my grandparents sent over from New Zealand. i had a real holster and a cool hat. It was the early 70's--clearly, i had no role models.

I've forgotten most other costumes after that--fast forward to the 21st century--

-Crystalline Daniels, last year
Crystalline was my assigned character at our friends' Honky Tonk Homicide Murder Mystery dinner party. She was the town hussy. i had a faux leather/cheetah mini skirt, cowboy boots, and a pink webbed shirt. i poured whiskey shots for people all night. Cappy was Twyla Fleetwood, Bingo pro and trailer park owner. Sexy.

I'm feeling it's time for a wardrobe overhaul. Would love to rip all the Banana Republic out of my closet and be a goth pirate year round.

That's it, i'll create a new line, what do you think of:

Corporate Goth
Business Pirate Casual
Executive Goth
Smart Pirate Goth

Guidelines for my new line in the workplace:

Goth Pirate Casual is crisp, dapper, and should look appropriate even for a chance meeting with a CEO. It should not look like cocktail or party or picnic attire. Avoid pastel or khaki; Goth Pirate is classic rather than preppy.

Basics: Leather pants tucked into laced up boots, , and a non-pressed long-sleeved, buttoned solid shirt are safe for both men and women. Bauhaus t-shirts, unwrinkled, are an appropriate choice if you know the environment will be quite casual, outdoors, or in a very hot location.

Shoes /belt: Wear a leather belt and leather shoes. Athletic shoes are inappropriate in most occasions except for athletics.

Details: Everything should be clean, well pressed, and dark black. Any black after a few washings may not be your best choice. Note: velvets and shimmery fabrics suitable for parties are totally appropriate for long days at the computer.

Jewelry: If you choose to wear other jewelry, do not be conservative. Removing earrings and piercings are not acceptable. For conservative industries, wear more black than usual. Observe others in your industry to see what is acceptable, then go for the opposite.

Accessories: Keep your choices savage and leaning toward the questionable. Gravitate towards extremes of style and color.

Cosmetics: Keep makeup heavy and dark. A bit more is usually better than none for a polished business goth look. Maintain extremes of nail length and polish especially in conservative industries.

I might have to put off my Foley Artist/Zamboni Driver dreams here. i think i've discovered my new calling...

Jupiter in Scorpio

According to Penny's preferred astrologer Jonathan Cainer, Jupiter enters Scorpio this week and will remain there until November 2006.

Generally, this Jupiter in Scorpio thing most strongly affects these three signs: Scorpio, Pisces, and Sagittarius. i'm a Sun and Venus Pisces, and have my rising in Scorpio for my sins. Flooded with water. Too much water. I'm in for a ride, a waterslide, slip and slide, riptide, maybe totally mollified?

Prepare for a phase of growth and inspiration, says Mr. Cainer. The last time Jupiter entered Scorpio was November '93-December '94. At this time in history, Penny trekked through Thailand, met a girl in Paris, and visited Seoul for the first time. And in between that, she smoked a lot of cigarettes, became telepathic, and had recurring dreams of North Carolina.

Penny says, "What's in store for me this time around, Jupiter?"

1. The re-kindling of my drum dreams, and subsequent re-start up of my band, "d.v.l.?"

2. A dream drive around the rink in my own pink pennylane zamboni?

3. I'll quit my job and totally get into foley artistry?

4. Completing a half marathon by my birthday?

5. Witnessing Cappy make her professional dreams come true, and being inspired to do the same?

6. i'll join the San Francisco Commonwealth Club so i can tour San Quentin. A co-worker did this. i'm fascinated--with San Quentin, not the Club.

7. Seriously, a half marathon. A mini triathlon?

Hey folks, Wednesday, 3 a.m. GMT. Jupiter in Scorpio. The madness begins....

Radio Show

Listened to a great show on NPR this morning on our way back from San Jose. It was called "Finding Home: 50 Years of International Adoption." The stories were from Korea, Guatemala, and China. The photo above shows Korean babies on their way to the States, courtesy of Holt, an evangelical Christian adoption organisation.

Earlier this morning, we shuttled Cappy's mom to the San Jose airport. She's off for a week long boat cruise aboard the "Spirit of Discovery" on the Columbia river. We then stopped for lunch at my favorite Japanese restaurant in the Bay Area, Gombei. Gombei is the real deal. No funky cream cheese and salmon 49er rolls here. It's the best Japanese food in the Bay Area.

So we're heading up on 880 from San Jose and this radio program starts playing on NPR. It was heartwarming, truthful, and at times very sad.

Many adoptees agonize over their lost identities, search for their birth families, and loss of cultural identity. Although these are not light issues, it is also never true that life with blood relatives is perfectly happy and trauma free.

Listening to some of the adoptee stories reminded me of the most wonderful thing about adoption--gaining a family and an opportunity for a better life.

If you get a chance, have a listen.

Nitrous

Dreaded message that swept into my voicemail yesterday:

"Hi, this is Carol from Dr. Vicki's office. This is just a reminder of your 8.30 dental appointment tomorrow morning. See you then, bye!"

Lovely. i totally did not see that one coming. i hadn't written it down in my calendar for obvious reasons. i went back to work. My happy mood left quietly out the back door. Later in the day, i received another voicemail. Carol, again:

"Hi again, this is Carol from Dr. Vicki's office. Just want to let you know that our nitrous machine is not working properly, so it will not be available for your appointment tomorrow. Hope that's OK!"

OK? What is the world coming to? The nitrous machine is not working properly?? What will they offer instead? A shot of whiskey? Some rope to tie around my arm for distraction? Nitrous, along with Vicodin, are what i call consolation prizes for an hour's worth of torment. Take those away, or the prospect of either, and you've got Penny with a 1978 kind of attitude..."i don't want to go! You can't make me!"

What happened to the nitrous machine?? i started to visualise the possibilities. Maybe someone forgot to turn it off before leaving the office, leaving a slithering hissss to flood the office overnight. Maybe the next morning Carol was leaving messages to patients like "Heeeeeeyyy, it's Carol! You gonna come in for your filling tomorrow? You know you love it! Wheeeeeee! That's what i'm talking about!" Frightening--on many levels.

So anyway, it turned out this morning that there wasn't enough time for the procedure that needed a shot (hence the nitrous...) This is both a blessing and a curse. i am spared today, but i have to make yet another appointment.

In a few weeks it will be another round of "Hey it's Carol from Dr. Vicki..." another pre-procedure night of anxiety, perhaps another whiny blog entry, another reluctant trip up Park Boulevard...

Let's hope that the nitrous machine gets "fixed" by then!

Baby Like Heroin

The title of this blog is not to imply that babies enjoy narcotics, but rather how many women in my age range seem to need a baby like heroin. Insane. Crazed. Desperate? Obligatory? Fulfilling? Life changing?

My good friend Kelly's baby is now able to sleep in her crib which opens up a new life dimension for her--hopefully one where creative work and/or reading can have a chance to resurface. Kelly can finally have a bit more down time, time to watch movies, catch up on correspondance, etc. And selfish me--here i am writing in a blog about all the glorious foods i've indulged in this past weekend, thinking about my upcoming drum lessons (!) and whether or not i should put our wetsuits away...

Many women i know in my age range have either just given birth or have serious plans to make this happen in the near planned future. Why has the baby bug not bitten me? Has it? Am i really smart or excessively selfish?

Our friends recently got an English Bulldog puppy called Winston. i've never met such a cuddly, warm, and loveable dog in my life. His two daddies were fussing over him this past Sunday like a mother with a newborn baby. Perhaps i could go that road. Raise a puppy. Less psychological damage, no diaper changes, simple needs. Then i realised that some dog breeds live for only seven years. So when i'd finally get the hang of being a dog mom, its lifespan would swiftly come to a close?!

So what kind of mother would i be?

There's a Happy Mom at my work who gives out unsolicited progress reports (or UPR's) of her baby. Typical scenario: You wander into the kitchen, wanting to just grab a coffee and get back to your desk. Happy Mom is in there, lurking about for an audience. If you make eye contact, you can't help uttering those magic words, "So how's the baby doing?" Let's face it, saying this is just asking for it. After the basic UPR rundown, she'll then turn to anecdotes. Here's where it gets really tricky to get away--it's probably now going on 15 minutes and all you wanted was a cup of coffee. Happy Mom winds you up with the promise of the funniest story in the world. Usually it turns out to be something about the kid putting a magnet on the refrigerator. Now i wonder, if/when i become a mother, will everything my child does be the funniest and most amazing thing?

So what about being a mom?

i was on my way back from Beijing, standing in the extremely confusing and crowded airport. Apparently there was an Air France flight headed back to Paris. As i looked around, there were many happy French couples holding beautiful baby girls in their arms. It suddenly hit me, how amazing it must be, to travel across the world, and return home with a new family member. It's what my parents did, back in 1970. i thought of how excited they must have been--driving down to Eugene, Oregon to pick me up on a plane that took off in Korea.

Fast forward through the customs line, the waiting area, and two hours into the flight back to San Francisco. i got up from my seat to walk around a bit. As i was stretching, i saw a little baby, standing on her father's lap, facing backwards, in my direction. This baby looked so excited, as if she knew where she was headed, and what lay ahead of her. She suddenly looked up at me with her cheery eyes, and noticed i was looking at her too. She bobbled up and down, and continued to look at me. Her eyes were consoling, reassuring, definitely communicative--then she broke out into a huge smile that was just for me. It was as if her look conveyed a simple message, "it's OK, i'm not that bad, i won't drive you crazy, look how much fun a baby could be...!"

OK so then it was cynical penny, 40,000 feet up in the air somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, no longer cynical but cheery, teary, and weary. Mostly teary!

Perhaps what scares me is that maybe i'll be the Happy Mom in the kitchen cornering co-workers with my lengthy UPR's, maybe it will be me blogging about my kid's first words, feats, and first steps?

i guess maybe growth in life is measured by the different reactions and sensations we feel to things we've considered over and over again in the past?

Malasadas and Ice Cream

Do you ever have days where you feel like eating everything including the tablecloth? This past sunny Saturday was one of extreme hedonistic indulgence with the Sharlita, the Cappy, and the newly de-furred Tubular One --i'll defer this explanation for now...

Our adventure started out Saturday morning with a hearty breakfast at Chloe's in Noe Valley. We had amazing egg scrambles with jarlsburg cheese, avocadoes, tomato, salmon, bacon (not all together), razor thin extra crispy bacon, walnut wheat toast, and orange juice. The coffee was just right, and the wait for a table not long at all.

We then trekked over to la casa de Sharlita. The Tubular One explored every square inch of the apartment punctuating each room with the "tik tik tik tik tik" sound of her little paws. Seemingly satisfied with the space, she settled down on the black and white checkered kitchen floor.

A little later in the day, it was off to Linda Mar beach in Pacifica, this time without our surfboards and wetsuits. Unfortunately so...there were no crowds, great waves, and spaces abound in the parking lot. Above the cove, a small circle of sun beat down on the surf, as a ring of surrounding grey clouds looked on. After unsuccessfully scaling the wall to the beach, the Tubular One raced out to dig to her heart's delight. She showed off her tennis ball retrieving skills, and rushed out to the shore's edge only to turn back at the very last minute.

On our way out to visit our foster pony, P-Middy, we stopped at the Linda Mar shopping complex. As i was turning the car into the intersection, i suddenly and joyously remembered that we were very close to L & L Drive Inn. i shouted out "Fruit Punch!" while maneuvering the car into the turning lane. We indulged ourselves with portuguese sausage and barbeque chicken musubi, fresh malasadas (nothing like the malasadas at Tex's Drive Inn in Honoka'a of course, but very good) and chicken katsu saimin. Hello, are we 16 year old teenagers?

Later that afternoon, after feeding a bag of carrots to our equine friends (carrots were the only thing we didn't inhale today), we found ourselves standing in line at Mitchell's...cherry vanilla, red raspberry, and white pistachio ice cream were the flavors, each dipped in chocolate in a small waffle cone. Very exciting.

And if all that wasn't enough, later that night for dinner....just kidding. After the ice cream late that afternoon, i didn't eat again until noon on Sunday.

Sometimes it's the sun and happy company that makes everything taste so wonderful. The only one who missed out on all the treats was the Tubular One. Speaking of her, i will get back to the previously deferred de-fur situation--

Our vet friend Sandy turned us on to a "Shedding Blade," something i've renamed as a "Fur Saw." It's a rounded metal contraption that actually slinks off clumps of loose fur. The Tubular One went from tubular to skeletal in less than three minutes. Her mommies will be sneeze free, until the next de-furring session (probably tomorrow) Fur will no longer reside in our space as a condiment.

Good times.

Fall

Fall is finally here, at least it feels that way today!

Last night was round two with the pod of Poppers. We clustered like bumblebees and stripped the ball from each other at times. From the sidelines, Cappy noted that it was a “kick and run” kind of game. You can generally see “kick and run” soccer games on Saturday mornings in the suburbs—you’ll see 4’ players in pink jerseys running between hockey sized goal posts. When I think of it, what were they thinking in the early 70’s? I recall playing soccer in 2nd and 3rd grade using regular sized fields and goal posts. No wonder we clustered and never scored any goals, the field was way too big!

So anyway, though I actually managed to stay on the field for most of the game, it’s never fun to lose to a crap team. I noticed that many women on my team, as well as the opposing team, are soccer moms—not in the sense that they support their soccer playing kids, but they’re actually moms gone wild on the field. This amazes me. i know i mentioned the soccer moms before. For some reason I have this weird idea in my head that once you’ve given birth, things like soccer are out of the question. Clearly, I’ve got to sort my life out.

Tonight I’m hanging out with my friend Bob. I first met Bob in Seoul, in an internet café near the Kyobo bookstore. I was grounding out cigarettes in the coffee ground-wet napkin ashtray, and Bob was busy working on the legal aspects of our friend Sang-Woon’s new nightclub idea. Months later, Bob and I took the overnight ferry from Pusan to Shimonoseki, Japan to renew our Korean visas. On the ferry, I remember staying up all night playing hwatu (go stop card game) with all the chain-smoking harmonis. In Seoul, we hung out on the roof of our yeogwan eating melon popsicles, and talking about travels in S.E. Asia. I had to keep reminding him that the Canadian woman down the hall was called “Bardee” and not “Barney.” It’s funny, the little details you remember about people.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to Christmas and New Years in Kona and Hilo this year. We’re looking forward to plate lunch picnics at Lilioulakalani park, snorkeling, running around with the niece and nephew, Hapuna beach, a flume ride, and Itsu’s ice shave.

Is it December yet?

Don't Repeat After Me v2

Eeeewww...

-Let's DO this!
Predominantly a dude phrase, it needs to be extinguished.

-Low-hanging fruit
A corporate idiom that sounds vulgar and makes me cringe whenever i hear it. For example, "Let's go for the low-hanging fruit first and revisit the other issues later." That just kills me.

-Perch, Dwell, Cohabitate, Stumble, Frolic, Summer, Nest, Gravitate, Canoodle, Percolate
All of these verbs, when referring to humans in action. It's nails on the chalkboard to me and i'm really not sure why?

-Omelette Station
Seen in buffet restaurants, usually written in neon lights. Not sure what is worse, seeing/hearing these words together or the aforementioned lights.

-Good luck with that!
Usually in response to impossible situations. It's so dismissive, though it cracks me up to hear it.

-Up the Ante
Also sounds vulgar.

-Want to grab some lunch? OR Want to grab a bite to eat?
As annoying and in the same category as: "That's what I'm talking about" and "Good to go."

OK, there, now i feel better.

Heavy Rotation

Headphones today:

Precious- Depeche Mode
i play this one constantly, hopefully i won't get too sick of it

Nothing Stays the Same- Elastica
justine frischmann...those dark eyes...

Transatlanticism- Death Cab for Cutie
If i could draw my favorite type of music i would sketch this song

New Forms-Roni Size/Reprazent
Best played as loud as possible

Sea of Sin (Sensoria Mix)- Depeche Mode
Aquatic, dark, and lovely

Simarik-Tarkan
Turkish Pop...pretty flirty tune

Ducks

Here's a picture of the Oregon Ducks walking all over the Stanford Cardinals. We're sitting 30 rows up from the 50 yard line surrounded by Stanford alumni. Our friends Christy and Sarah were nibbling on chicken sandwiches and nursing endless lemonades while Cappy and i dealt with overflowing mustard and relish from our colossal hot dogs. We enjoyed the first half, but after half time, it was like watching a junior varsity high school team (Stanford) scrimmaging against the varsity (Ducks) team.

It was summer hot with barely a breeze. We cheered on the Ducks and thankfully didn't make any enemies in the process. That said, many of the Stanford alums sitting behind us quietly exited in the middle of the 3rd quarter. As we were walking out of the stadium we overheard a sad Cardinal fan exclaiming into her cell phone, "it was misery...misery, just misery!"

Final score: Ducks 44 - Cardinals 20

Kathleen would kill me, but i didn't wear any green and yellow...Luckily, Christy represented for me with her green sleeved shirt.

Until yesterday, i had only been to a couple of college football games in the fall of 1989. I remember enjoying the whole autumn feel of it. The light grey clouds, leaves, smell of burning leaves, and the happy energy of the crowds. I remember sipping coffee and Bailey's with a heavy wool blanket draped over my lap. i never paid attention to the game though, and usually left at halftime.

Yesterday however, it was a bit odd melting in the sun while eating frozen lemonade. My yearly football fix is done. We loved the game and the concessions. Good times.