TweetOur friend Kevin makes bird houses out of old license plates.  When I got my motorcycle, I had the old smaller plate from the previous owner.  Kevin made me a little tiny bird house which I hung on the tree outside of our back yard. 

All last spring, I witched young bird couples shop around for a place to live.  The only problem with the tiny birdhouse was that the hole was too small.  Last year at the end of the summer, some wasps chewed away at the opening of the little bird house opening up the hole a bit.  The other day, I was in the yard and heard this bird happily singing away.  I finally realized that the sound was coming from the little house.  I guess we have a tenant this year. 

She just loves her new place and we love having her.  It’s a joy to sit out there and listen to her chirping away.  She seemed a bit apprehensive about us being in the back yard at first but we have all grown used to each other. 

Kevin built me another house out of a regular sized plate that I had from our other car.  There’s a for rent sign on it so pass the word if you know a cool bird.

After raising three children while working full time at the tender age of 51 (sorry to tell your age sis but it makes the story more effective), my oldest sister Betty graduated from law school.  There is no possible way I could have accomplished what she did.  I am very, very proud of her. 

My father–who could not attend–is proud too.  Finally, all six of his children are college graduates.  Dad used to say,

 “I’m not going to force you to go to college because I know you’re going anyway.”

Betty and I were the late bloomers.  I was 33 when I graduated and she is 51.  It guess it was worth the wait.  Ray and I headed out to LA to attend the ceremony.  It was great to see my family and catch up with Betty’s friends that I have not seen for years.

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(L to R) Ma in law Pat, niece Nichole, Betty’s kids: Ben, Sarah, Dan

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Betty and friend

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Moments away from grabbing the brass ring

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It’s like being crowned

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Congrats Betty!

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Betty and our mother

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The ubiquitous one-armed MySpace/Blog pic (brother John in the background)

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All who attended on Betty’s behalf

The funny thing (to me) about the ubiquitous one-armed MySpace/Blog pic is that you can kind of see how my sister and I get along.  It’s impossible to chat with her without laughing.  We both have a warped sense of humor. 

Now all she has to do is pass the bar. . .

Music!I spent all day last Sunday reconfiguring my studio.  After months of guitar practice and being focused on other big projects, I’m itching to start writing music again.  I wish I could afford studio technicians.  It’s really hard to have to do everything yourself.  What I really want is to assemble a band except this time I’m the lead singer/songwriter as opposed to the keyboard player who sings the occasional ooh, ohh, yeah, yeah in the background.

Ray and I are off to LA again today.  My sister Betty is graduating from law school.  I’m very proud of her…and it never hurts to have a lawyer in the family.

Oh, one more thing.  I finally bought an iPhone while I was in Chicago.  It’s totally bitchen’.  I figured I deserved it after getting the County’s website up and running.

Couldn’t sleep again.  My mental alarm clock went off at 4:30 AM.  This time I was fixated on one thing–we’re out of half and half.  I just can’t drink my coffee without half and half.  Don’t give me that “whitener” shit either.  I want Half. And. Half.

I finally got up and, to reduce my carbon footprint, rode my bike to the gas station on hwy 92.  It was kind of chilly outside.  It was really chilly going 70 MPH.  I got home and put my jammies back on as if the trip to the store never happened.  I already had the whole bed head thing going on.  Helmet head, bed head.  Like, who’s going to know?

I’m a bit sore this morning.  I worked out with my trainer last night.  I now realize that the best remedy for the “don’t feel like working out” blues is to–work out.  One session and I was already back into the groove.  It really helps to get you motivated…and there was a totally hot guy working out with his buddy.   He had nice arms.   Sigh…  You know, contrary to popular belief, it’s not easy being horny all the time. 

But someone’s got to do it.

So I made another appointment for Thursday.  I have six sessions left.  I think part of getting mentally into working out is to look at it as pampering myself.  I’m doing something good that will make me look and feel great.  I need to be as excited about a workout as I would getting a massage.  Do you think I’ll eventually believe that if I just keep repeating it?

I better get ready for work.  I’m not too happy about going to work since I moved offices last week.  I had to let go of the dream that I would get the vacant window office.  The thought of losing it puts a lump in my throat.  I moved into the office next to the server room.  Those of you who work with computers know what that means; it’s freezing and noisy.  This office has no windows,  hard tile flooring and those full-spectrum fluorescent lights so it’s really shiny and white–just like in nature.  It’s cold and bright and has those big metal shelves with miscellaneous computer equipment all around.  

The decision to move was sort of a knee-jerk reaction to my old office where every time I made the slightest sound, I felt like I was disturbing my disturbed officemate who is easily disturbed.  There is one redeeming thing about this whole move.  I like my new officemate.  He’s smart and helpful and I can learn a lot from him.  He’s one of the only people I could share space with but, alas, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in a brightly lit hermetically sealed box–and I can’t see the sun.  I fear that whoever does get the coveted window office will inevitably keep the blinds closed.  It’s one of the many phenomenons I don’t understand.  Sit next to a window and close the blinds blocking out all sunlight.  It’s like blasting the air conditioner to 65 degrees.  If it was 65 degrees outside, you’d have the heater on.   Makes no sense. 

God, just blogging about the whole office thing has made me depressed and whiny.   I just have to suck it up and shut the fuck up…which is something I’m totally not good at. 

My old houseWhen Ray and I were in Chicago two weeks ago, I visited my friend Stephen.  He lived across the street from us in our old neighborhood.  I had Stephen take a photo of me standing in front of what used to me my house. 

I have fond memories of that place.  It was in good structural condition when we bought it in 1999 but it needed some major overhauling. 

We spent a lot of time fixing up the house and yard (and then sold it).

See the finished product for yourself.  Photos of our old home.

RingSo…While we were in Chicago clearing out Aunt Leona’s old house, I found an 18k white gold ring that just happen to fit me prefectly.  Who knew?  I think it’s from the 30’s.  I’m happy to have a nice little memento to remember her by. 

I have had the Lopaka Lounge site for almost a decade.  At first it was dedicated solely to my in-house multimedia design studio with an online portfolio and contact info.  After the dot-com bust, the real lounge in my basement became kind of a private karaoke club and the site was used to post the song list and random party photos.  When we moved to Bisbee, it evolved into a photo keep-in-touch site so that friends and family could get up to the minute photos of me, Ray and Bisbee.  It was all pretty safe and family oriented…

Until now.

When I started blogging, I took the advice of every writer I knew–be honest.  Don’t sugar coat it.  Write what you feel, what you know.  The only problem is that I forgot about the legacy of my site.  People used to come here to see cute pictures of the latest karaoke bash or progress of the current year’s garden.  Now, they see text.  Honest text.  Text about what I really think and feel. 

1. I’m not very Christian or Christ-like
2. I’m a pervert
3. I say fuck a lot
4. Did I mention I say fuck a lot?
5. Fuck

I think a lot of my posts are rather cringeworthy to the ear of someone like my mother or a member of our church in Chicago.  Blogging is like coming out of the closet.  If you tell a friend you’re gay and they blow you off then they weren’t your friend in the first place.  If you write honestly about what you think and feel and a friend or family member blows you off then fuck ’em.  Love me or leave me.  Just don’t preach at me.