10 x 14

Centimeters. That's the size of this cyst inside me. How many "large oranges" have you seen that are close to that size? I'm no fruit expert, but I'd say we're now in mango territory. This mango - not this mango.

Had another ultrasound this morning. Again, I'm no fruit expert, but I'm pretty sure the technician's brain consists of fruit salad. With the amount of pressure she applied to all the sensitive areas of my abdomen, she must have very clear images of the downstairs floor. I suspect she's also an avid sailor on boats with outboard motors, the way she was confidently directing the vag cam into even more sensitive areas.

She was very attentive though, telling me about her upcoming trip to Hawaii and how this time she's not doing any binge eating! Because she's pregnant. She did tell me to bring chapstick to the hospital and good hand lotion, cause the hospital lotion sucks.

They have signs posted in the ultrasound rooms explaining that you cannot ask the technician for any information about the results of your exam, as they are not physicians and cannot provide diagnostic information... Thanks for your cooperation!

The first thing she asked me when I arrived was, "Were you taking anything that may have caused this?"  Yes, it's a new supplement, I believe it's called CystMORE. I was skeptical of its claims to increase cyst growth by 400%, but I'm stoked it's working!

Later I had my first MRI - doctor wants to see this thing in 3D and check to see if any lymph nodes are enlarged. They shouldn't be, as I've not been taking my LymphMORE.

I'm getting tired of everyone else getting to ogle at my cyst while I haven't even gotten a peek. Can't wait to see the photos after they carve it out of me. It feels like it might have tentacles.

Gestating

That's right - I have a little something inside me...A little bundle of... well, not joy - fluid? Taffy? What's inside an ovarian cyst, anyway? Whatever it is, I don't think it will have my eyes and David's hair. David's mom wanted a granbaby, but she's getting a grancyst. It's the best I can do.

I wonder how long it's been in there, growing to the size of a "large orange," as my gyno described it. When does a "large orange" become a pomelo? How much longer could I keep growing this thing to make something really impressive?

Will it have its own teeth and hair? Will it have teeny tiny hands so it can drag itself around the house? I'm not gonna keep carrying it around everywhere. It's gonna have to become self-sufficient at some point.

I want a photo of it when they take it out - they can do that, right? I asked for a copy of an ultrasound photo, but they wouldn't give me one. You can get one of your fetus, but not when you grow something all by yourself? Isn't that discrimination?

Will I miss it when it's gone? Will I regret having it sucked out of me by a tiny Dyson? Maybe I should keep it and give it up for adoption. You know there's someone out there who loves collecting odd growths. eBay.

If I don't make it through the extraction, you know, in case they get my liver instead of this citrusy cyst, David will auction off my worldly possessions to the highest bidders and use the money to adopt more cats.

Comfortably Dumb

Also could be titled, "Why I Don't Give Two Shits About Amy Winehouse."

When I saw the headline this past weekend about Winehouse being found dead in her home, my first reaction was What the hell? Seriously?

Not out of surprise - she was a multi-car train wreck. It was more from a place of, Seriously, with all the money and resources at your disposal, you still can't get your shit together? People still do this?

But on the other hand - that voice... What a waste. What colossal disrespect for one's body and talent. What a dumbshit.

A friend on Facebook - sorry, Facecrap - posted a sympathetic notice about all the fallen stars who've died (from drug abuse) at the tender age of 27 - so sad. More like, so lame. They made their choice. That's what you get for making one of the worst decisions you can make. I just can't cry about it.

Another rich celebrity/movie star/rock star ending up dead. Someone who has all the resources to get help, either being enabled by a toxic entourage or simply believing she's immune to the same pitfalls that harm everyone else or who the fuck knows why, not getting the help she needs to be a productive human.

There's no excuse. She chose drugs. It doesn't matter why. If addiction really is a disease, like cancer, diabetes, or stupidity, then the only choice should be to get treatment (if you want to live). Someone with lung cancer doesn't keep smoking unless they want to die. I don't sympathize with that, but I can respect that, even though it's incredibly stupid.

Four Out of Five Muscles Agree: Meat Good

Just got a funny text from my good friend Susanna - a wonderful woman who shares my love of nutrition and healthy, holistic living...

For a long time now she's been on a mostly raw, almost vegan diet and very happy with it. But when I visited her earlier this year and heard about her exciting Krav Maga classes, I asked her how she was getting through such a strenuous thing on kale salad and a handful of nuts.

I had her tell me what she usually ate on any given day and there was so little protein - I'd have passed out doing all that on an occasional egg and some walnuts. I told her she might want to add in some protein powder somewhere - something - give her body some amino acids to rebuild those tired muscles. She eventually did and I'm sure it helped.

I recently embarked upon my own experiment with vegetarianism and while I started out well and felt wonderful - at first - it didn't last. After about 6-8 weeks, I was constantly hungry, tired most of the time and felt like all my muscles were turning to fat. My mid-section seemed flabby and the bloating - jebus christmas, the bloating. It never went away.

Maybe over time my body might have adjusted, but I think it was really a matter of my body not being happy on a no-meat plan. It just doesn't work for me. Especially not when I'm running and lifting. A bowl of kale, beans and quinoa just isn't going to cut it. For someone else maybe, but not for me.

... So, the funny text... After two hours meeting with her new nutritionist, Susanna texts me, "You might want to start eating that burger again!" I told her I already had and was feeling *much* better as a result.

The thing I was always concerned about while on my vegetarian vacation was if I was getting the right amounts of amino acids, in the right proportions. While it might be true that you don't have to combine your legumes with your grains at the same time, what *is* critical is to get all the essential amino acids and in the right amounts every single day.

From the research I've done, if you don't get them in the right amounts and you're low on one or another, it can impede the process of building muscle. All have to be present in the right proportions for optimal functioning.

I need to keep digging to see if this information is even available, but no food labels tell you which amino acids they contain and in what amounts. There's no way to easily know how much cous cous (or rice, or pasta) equates to the amount of amino acids & their proportions, or how many cups of beans/legumes you need to make up the balance. Just going by the grams of protein isn't enough information.

All along, I listened to my body. It finally told me "You need to roast a damn chicken and roast it now." So I did. And it was fugging delicious. There are other days when my body tells me "You need a damn burger full of B vitamins and iron and you need it now." And I oblige.

The trick is to make sure I'm not eating a burger anytime soon before I run, for obvious reasons. On running days, I eat like I always have - vegetarian throughout the day, then the run, then the MEAT.

As I've always believed, no one plan or diet can work for all people. You have to listen closely to your own body and give it what it needs. And everything in moderation. Now I really want a burger.

CCB+

After a full year at one of the (purportedly) best art schools in the country, here's my admittedly biased but informative "review" of CCA (California College of the Arts).

First, I had no idea what art school might be like or what I might be getting myself in to. Second, I'm a 40-something adult who's already had a successful professional career and who's brain is no longer that malleable or idealistic. I'm also fairly cranky sometimes and love to call Bullshit.

Alrighty - that's out of the way.

I decided to go back to school to *really* learn photography - for reals - after years of teaching myself. Business had been slow, I like to learn, CCA has (had?) a great reputation and they're right in our backyard. Win win win. I took the tour, applied, was accepted and then got my ass handed to me daily for seven months.

Being brand new to art, I had to take the required foundational courses - drawing, color theory and basically, wood shop (D1, 2D and 3D core classes). The 4D core class is not, as I thought, the study of the time/space continuum, but web design and video production.

Thankfully, 17 years in web design & development allowed me to waive the 4D class - not the required units, just that class. I still have to take 3 units somewhere to make up for that, which is bullshit. But onward...

To complete a BFA, the required, full-time semester load is 15 units for most semesters, 18 for a few. If that sounds like a lot, it is. It's a shit ton of a lot. Especially when they pile on the work (busywork) with a fire-hose as if to try to make art school seem like a legitimate academic education, which it isn't. Not when you can bake cookies for your math final. That's not bullshit - a classmate did it.

Still, it's art, and some art, like photography, requires rigorous technique that is best learned through repetition. That makes sense. If I need to shoot and develop 400 rolls of film to get it down, then I'm on it.

The rub is, not only do they want you to burn 400 rolls of film and paint 17 color charts (that you'll never need) and fill up an entire sketch book with what-the-hell-ever and make sculptures out of wood, clay and cardboard - every week - they want all that work to be of the very highest creative quality and craftsmanship.

Really? You want both quantity and quality? Not likely, even with the best circumstances.

I understand the emphasis on the quantity of photographic exercises - it's a science with gobs of technical expertise required. But assigning a photo project then assigning homework on top of that is just stupid. Do you want me to be creative - nay, an "artist" - or do you want me to be a factory worker? Your choice. You're not going to get both - not at the same time.

But still, I tried. I worked my ass off wanting to not just go back to school, but to go back to school and kick ass. I'm happy to say I did OK - I have a 3.6 GPA, which isn't too shabby. I'd hoped to do better, but CCA - sorry, CCB+ - wouldn't have it.

I'd forgotten an important part of school... You don't take classes, you take teachers. Unfortunately, CCB+ has some terribly unqualified, awful teachers. They might be brilliant artists, but they don't know jack about teaching, which equates to a big waste of your time and money. It fucks with your head, too, which is worse.

In some classes, it doesn't matter how hard you work or how brilliant your work is. If they're too stupid to remember where they parked their cars, it's not going to matter.

That actually happened. One of my teachers didn't know where her car was parked one morning, causing her to be really late to class. Another morning she dropped her keys into a storm drain and instead of finding a way to let her class know that she'd be over an hour late, she went about fashioning a key-retrieval device while we all waited (and napped) in the classroom.

At our midterm check-in meeting she made sure to let me know that I had one tardy.

This, from the scholar who after every mind-numbingly boring PowerPoint bullet would say, "Does that make sense?" as if she truly didn't know.

She meant well, but it was her first year as an instructor and she was painfully insecure and ineffective. She made a pretty good babysitter, but she has a long way to go to becoming a solid teacher.

I received almost no useful feedback from her on how to improve my work - she largely ignored me while spending lots of time critiquing work by other students that was often done the night before class. She didn't mind these same students sleeping through her lectures while the rest of us were distracted by their heads bobbing up and down.

This past semester I had a drawing teacher who was so bad, I wish I'd have dropped the class and just watched Youtube videos about drawing. In one night David showed me more about how to draw something than I'd learned the entire semester up to that point. She also had the rude habit of impatiently drawing over your work without asking if she could, while attempting to teach you something, which she didn't.

Her curriculum was disorganized and goofy. Supposed to be a foundational, first-year, never-drawn-anything-before kind of class, she had us using pastels the first day. I'm still pissed about that. But, to her credit, she let me bake a cake for my final. That's right. A cake. For a drawing final. And it was delicious. Got a B+ in her class.

Which brings me to my point... No matter how hard I worked on any project - most of the time I received B+'s. Even projects I knew were A+ quality - forget it. You can't BUY an A at that school, unless it's the art history classes, and even still, you have to show up and do well on the tests and properly write the papers - there's no skating even in the easier classes.

In my digital photo class, I killed myself on the first project and received a B+. When I asked why only a B+, I was told I could have done more. Isn't that true of almost everything? How bout a little something, you know, for the effort? It was almost technically flawless and perfectly executed based on the requirements, but yet, I could have done more...

On another project I absolutely nailed it - totally killed, above & beyond amazing - and got an A-. The grading sheet had no negative comments whatsoever - all glowing remarks. I again had to ask for the input that would allow me to understand how one might attain an A -- not an A+, no one's being greedy here -- just a good, solid A.

Only then did she tell me that some of my prints could have been better or something to that effect. Honestly, I'm not sure she really knew because she never made notes in class so I'm not sure she even remembered whose projects were whose or how good or bad they may have been. She was another first year teacher (in an upper div class). She was better than others, but not great.

I did have a few good instructors in a few classes that made it all almost worth it. I say almost because CCA is really fugging expensive. And I don't know why. I don't know why CCA can charge almost as much Stanford and get away with it.

CCA's retention rate is 72%, compared with 98% for Stanford. CCA's graduation rate is 50%. Stanford's is 95%. Stanford charges about $38K a year, and CCA about $36K.

Sure, CCA and Stanford are two totally different schools - but, which degree is going to help you get farther in life? And why are so many kids (or 40-something adults) not graduating from CCA?

Could it be, the product is just too expensive and not really worth it? The overall value of CCA is suspect. It's a teeny tiny campus with under 2,000 students and a 9-1 student-to-faculty ratio. And there are never enough classes to choose from to build a good semester schedule.

Stanford has just under 20,000 - that's twenty *thousand* - students, has a huge campus and a 10-1 student-to-faculty ratio. RISD costs the same as Stanford but also has similar retention and graduation rates as Stanford.

What is costing so much at CCA? They're definitely not spending money on tampons. Is having a glass blowing facility really that expensive? Is that even a job anywhere anymore, except maybe at a Shakespeare festival?

Seriously. Why is CCA so expensive?

I would love to finish the rest of my BFA photo program and have that degree in-hand - proof of all the hard work and commitment, but at the same time, given the sub-par level of instruction in most classes (so far), the ridiculously high unit requirement (which means more money for CCA but not necessarily more knowledge for you) and the overall cost (in time and cash), I'm not sure it's worth it. As of now, I'm not seeing the value.

When I first went to college so many years ago, starting at De Anza in Cupertino, which by comparison is almost free, the classes were rigorous, the instructors whip smart and they couldn't have cared less whether we showed up to class or not. It was our time and our money. When I transferred to San Francisco State I expected to be slammed by "real" college. What a surprise - De Anza was harder - a much better school in many ways.

At CCB+, attendance is mandatory or your instructor can fail you - after only three absences. If you're late three times, that can be counted as an unexcused absence. Even if the student body is mostly comprised of immature freaks who couldn't get into a real school (myself included), they're not going to give anyone the chance to rise to the challenge and be expected to act like an adult. The babysitting culture of high school continues in the first year at CCB+, which is disappointing.

But next semester will show me a little more of what CCB+ might have to offer. I'll be in more advanced classes - all the foundational shit is behind me - and I'll be in a writing class (if I can add it - of course it was full when I was able to register). I hear nothing but good things about the writing program, so I'm encouraged about that.

In the meantime, I need to continue researching vandal-proof tampon/pad dispensers and decide if this is really the path I want to stay on.

I'd hoped to find knowledge as well as inspiration, and maybe even a mentor somewhere - someone who might want to take an interest in my work and help push me in one direction or another. So far, no one seems to give a shit unless you're late on your tuition - then you're going to hear from someone.

If you're thinking about going to art school, realize it's pretty much like any other school but likely has a shit ton more pretentiousness and bullshit than you might want to pay for. But you can also bake cakes and make pretty pictures instead of writing boring term papers.

Anti-Choice, Pro-Lunacy

Caught a sound bite last night that made me wince - a republicant hoping to run for president apparently wants to ban abortion - totally. Huntsman, I think it was. This was the douchebag who held his press conference in New Jersey but said he was in New York.

And that got me thinking about this. Again.

Here's another man - a man who will never face the situation of having to decide if he can carry a child to term - or not - for whatever reason - believing his beliefs (Mormon) should be everyone's beliefs. (Doesn't everyone love that knock on the front door from the nauseatingly cheerful boy in the shirt & tie!?)

Reminds me of another bag of douche, Mitch Daniels, who approved the Planned Parenthood funding ban in Indiana - a man with four daughters. Four daughters who will most likely be able to afford any sort of health care they could ever want.

But, heaven with a baby jesus wrapped in golden fleece forbid, should they ever find themselves in need of health care they cannot afford, they'll be shit out of luck at Planned Parenthood, thanks to daddy.

On the flip side - how the fuckity fuck does IVF fit into this scenario? Why is it perfectly legal - even encouraged - to use unnatural means for women to become pregnant with MULTIPLE embryos? Isn't that - dare I say it... CHOICE?

If you're anti-choice, then IVF should be banned right along with abortion. If one cannot choose to abort a fetus, one should not be allowed to artificially create a fetus. Yet why is IVF so acceptable? Why wouldn't IVF be banned in favor of adoption?

Oh, but then it wouldn't be *our* baby with *our* DNA (that seemed to realize maybe you shouldn't be breeding). Heaven with fourteen baby jesuses wrapped in pink saran wrap forbid we adopt a potty-trained child desperate for a loving family. That's some shit talking right there.

But really, it goes a lot deeper than Save the Babies and Abortion is Murder. For the record, I'm pro choice/freedom all the way around. Pro-free country, pro-death penalty, anti-seat belt & helmet laws & pro-Darwin. But I digress.

Women saddled with children are more easily controlled - more so than we childless broads. Women running around after drooling, screaming toddlers all day don't have the energy to sit and wonder why all these men (and some batshit crazy women) want us having dozens of kids.

And by the way, these assholes don't give two shits about the kids - anyone can have one if you want one (or six). There's no special certification required - any dumbshit can crap out a kid and then pop it in the microwave for dinner. Or they can raise them to be totally undisciplined, screaming brats who will grow up to be totally undisciplined screaming assholes. Oh the beautiful miracle of life!

But back to my point... men run the world. Still. How, I really can't fathom, as most of them are rather inept, but they do. Though there are a handful walking around smart enough to realize just how dumb they are - hence, perhaps the fear of losing their status?

With women outnumbering the men in our country, and interestingly, it seems like everyone I know who is having kids has more girls than boys - you boys must be cuddling your nuts in terror. You know your days are numbered. That gives me great joy.

The bottom line is, you can go ahead and try to ban abortion - I don't think it will ever happen - but if it does, you're just making the problem worse.

The smarter, more capable women will always find a way to survive these ridiculous tactics and as a result, they'll be more likely to wreak havoc on your little nutsacks. It makes us that much more intent on doing so.

And the thing that should scare you more than women without kids is women who are consciously deciding to have or adopt them and are teaching them to question the world in just this way.

Get Yer Sh*t and Go

Dear Spider Living in the WC,

I know you're not on the computer reading my blog because you're currently terrorizing me from the ceiling of the bathroom, but when you log on later while we're asleep, let this serve as your 24 hours' notice to get the hell out.

Do not go back to the water closet where at any moment you could drop down onto my head whilst I'm relieving myself, causing me to jump up mid-stream and run hysterically through the house batting at my hair.

Do not take a side trip into the bedroom where you might think about crawling all over my face on your way toward the window.

Just crawl your spindly, creepy, gross ass down where you will either be clumsily battered by one of six cat paws or stomped on by a boot; or make your way quietly back out the window from whence you crawled your nasty, icky, spidery ass in.

If I see you in there tomorrow morning, the broom comes out and this won't end well for you. You've been warned.

Good day, Spider Sir.

Update! As of this morning, he's GONE! (Or she, she full of spindly, creepy, icky spider babies... omg, where IS she???)

Waiting for the Meteor

Will it be here soon? Is there any way to speed it up?

Spent a lovely, flesh-meltingly hot afternoon at the Oakland Oracle Alameda County Stadium and Base of Humanity Pit yesterday, enjoying a day at the ballpark with family - love hanging out with my husband & brothers, always a great time.

Unfortunately, the more time I spend at events like that, the more discouraged I become about our future as a species.

It's not just the constant yelling of idiotic phrases - so loud right behind my ear yet no chance of anyone on the field ever hearing them - or the inability to manage one's substances, resulting in one woman becoming incapacitated by too many pain killers and booze on an empty stomach (so glad she was escorted out before she passed out on top of us).

But just one casual comment made by a fucktard sitting behind me was the most disappointing.

One section over down in front of us were three women - a baseball bridal shower. They were quiet, having a good time with each other - no squealing, no shrieking, no giant dildo-shaped cakes or beer cups - just three girlfriends enjoying a day at the ballpark.

A few males behind us noticed them - one woman wearing a veil attached to her ball cap - and at one point this douchebag referred to the women as "wedding skanks."

Why? Perhaps because as stupid as he is, he knows he wouldn't have a chance with any of them, or maybe he considers all women to be skanks. Maybe his mother was a skank. Doesn't matter. I just hope he doesn't have any daughters, because you know they'd be skanks too.

This is why I love watching ball games at home, with my cats, far far away from people who are so stupid I don't know how they find their way out of their homes to even get to a ball park. They shouldn't - they should stay home so the rest of us can enjoy the world a little more.

I Like You

Summer. I would like the entire year to be like you. I like being warm. Wearing sandals. Sorbet. Driving with the windows down. All of them. Hair like a rat's nest.

Know what else I like, still? Meat.

Full-time vegetarianism doesn't work. I like it most of the time, but every now & then I gots ta have some roasted chicken, a plate O carpaccio - something. It works. Body seems to like it.

Know what I don't like? Gunk. Clutter. Klooge. I have to de-clutter the house (again), clear out my head, clean out the "friends" list on stupid facecrap - purge the bullshit.

I'm swirling around in whirlpool of that foamy gunk you see in crappy little creeks & need to paddle the fuck out to something clean and clear and open and expansive.

I think I need to go for a run.

How I've Started My Summer Vacation

From: Jennifer Loring [Nootsmaak]

Sent: Monday, May 16, 2011 11:48 AM

To: CCA Student Affairs

Subject: women's health needs

Hi Student Affairs,

I’m a current student at CCA, based on the Oakland campus, and now that the semester/year has ended I wanted to write to you to ask about something I find very troubling at CCA.

Why are there no tampon/pad machines in any of the restrooms on the Oakland campus? I inquired about this once before and was told that if I needed a tampon I could ask for one at the Student Affairs office. This is not a satisfactory solution for many reasons.

We cannot always know when we’re going to need a tampon or a pad. I always have something with me in my bag, but when taking a quick break from class, I do not bring along my book bag – most often we have only a few minutes to take a bathroom break and/or get a cup of coffee.

If we discover that indeed we do need a tampon or pad, the solution is to pack our underwear with toilet paper to make the awkward journey to the Student Affairs office to then ask out loud for it from whomever might be at the desk? How humiliating. This also takes a lot of time – time our instructors generally do not give us, which is fine – I’m paying to be in class – I’d rather be in class, not running around trying to find a tampon.

If we’re then late getting back to class, we then get to explain to our instructor that we had to do the above because there are no machines provided in the restrooms. That we cannot quickly purchase a tampon or a pad in the privacy of the restroom and quickly get back to class makes no sense.

Why are there no machines provided? Regardless of the reason, this seems an incredibly insensitive and sexist policy. This is a basic necessity of all women attending CCA. These machines are provided in public restrooms – why not on a private university campus?

CCA is known as a preeminent university located in one of the most progressive areas of the country and also charges expensive tuition. That women are not provided with machines to buy feminine hygiene materials is inexcusable and this should be remedied as soon as possible. All of my female (and even male) classmates share this sentiment.

Please let me know how I can help make this happen.

Thanks very much,

- Jennifer Loring

Update: Heard back from Student Affairs - it was as I'd suspected. They used to have machines in the bathrooms but they were vandalized so badly they became non functional.

Why do girls do this? Is the idea of shelling out a whole quarter so objectionable one must try to pry open a tampon machine and break the shit out of it and ruin it for everyone else?

May you, the vandalizers, bleed through your favorite pants in the most public setting possible nowhere near a feminine hygiene product, paper napkin nor sweater to tie around your bloated waists.

However, SA was incredibly responsive and willing to remedy this situation, somehow. Oh, and as it turns out, there are no tampons/pads available at the office - that was a lie. Glad I didn't ever give that a try.

Further bulletins as events proceed.

Hello World! I'm Baaaaack!

Actually, I never left. Not entirely... It's just that being a full-time student robs you of all that is leisurely in life - sleeping, eating properly, watching Bravo teevee, blogging...

I really have missed you, blog, and blog lurkers. I love you so...

School is out for the summer (cue song) and instead of taking classes I decided to sleep, get me summa that good ol' teevee, revisit this here blog and eat foods other than Power Bars and trail mix.

Speaking of food... I just became a vegetarian. The meat/bacon/baconmeat lover of all-time hasn't touched meat in almost two weeks now - 13 days, to be precise.

Why? Mostly because I read this book - Born to Run. Along with being a huge inspiration for running, it talks about nutrition and animal protein. Specifically how animal protein kicks cancer cells into gear. I don't have cancer (that I'm aware of), but I am at the age where cancer can begin.

So, that, combined with a 10-month Power Bar program (plus a few too many In & Out burgers), made me think about ditching meat and including a lot more vegetables & fiber into the plan. And so far, so good.

I definitely feel lighter - like things are firing a lot more efficiently - and even if I eat a ginormous bowl of salad with beans & cous cous, I don't feel like I'm 5 months pregnant with a medicine ball.

The trick is to watch the salt & fat... Been retraining my palate to go without, using onion & garlic powders and just teensy drizzles of olive oil, but mostly lemon juice - and it's amazing how much better the food tastes.

David is frightened, of course, because greens don't grow in Michigan (where he's from), or so he tells me, but I think he'll be OK. He eats lettuce sometimes. Capers too, even. He spies my plate with a wary eye, but I see a hint of curiosity there too.

My mother is confused, but supportive. She listened to me talk about my new lifestyle and then helpfully offered up a cheeseburger taco salad recipe. I love that about her. (I don't eat cow dairy - haven't in years.)

We'll see how it goes - I'm sure it'll be easy during the summer. I bet it'll be challenging when school starts and the weather gets dreary. I think I ate meat at every meal when we lived in The Great Grey North - couldn't get enough. But that could just be the usual effect Canada has on people.

I know there's a ton of veggie cookbooks out there - I'll be shopping for them soon - but for now I'm adapting the stuff I usually like to cook and I have to say, it's pretty darn tasty. I'll fire up another old blog - the Nootsmaak Cooksmaak - and start posting recipes there. Happy Eating y'all!

Start Making Sense

Art is hard. Or maybe just a lot of hooey. Or maybe some of each. Or maybe I still have no clue about anything.

Being a straightforward person, it's sometimes difficult to look at an object - something to photograph - and look for ways to "transform" that object into something else. Sometimes it's easy, and sometimes it can be fun to go abstract altogether.

The thing is, I'm getting kind of irritated by hearing people say, "how can [the thing] be [essentially] not at all like the thing?" and I get that, to some degree, but sometimes I WANT YOU TO KNOW IT'S THAT THING. THAT'S WHAT MAKES THE PICTURE. For me, anyway.

The other thing is, it's all subjective. There are some rules, but in the end, it comes down to what every individual will pull from the work - everyone will see something different. Though I've noticed, during class critiques, there is an *awful* lot of BS bandied about... People trying to talk about art or sound like they know how to talk about art - it's often painful to sit through.

Also painful is the idea that one has to choose a specific direction or concept. For example, after a marathon class reviewing everyone's contact sheets (six hours total), I received the following note from my instructor: "It looks like you still don't know what you're interested in." My negatives included all sorts of subjects - clouds, murals, still lifes, landscapes, urban decay, night shots of people on the street, classic car shows and a doll with a sad substance abuse problem.

Are you kidding me? I'm interested in everything! Was that not obvious? Is that not a good thing? After reviewing our notes, I said to her, "I may not ever have a single thing I'm interested in, and I think that's fine." What an entirely unhelpful comment. Why not find one thing she liked and tell me to explore that more fully? I'd have been happy to see that. That would have been helpful.

I should add - the point of the class was to learn old skool color printing and color theory for photography. Of course, we should be stretching our creative muscles whilst shooting roll after roll of film to fulfill the assignments, but most days it's all about getting it done - on time - with the highest quality.

If the point of the class was to create mind-blowing artistic work the likes of which the world has never seen before, then OK - lay it on me. But it wasn't. So keep that in mind when you're nitpicking what I've shot. (To be fair, she gave me an A, so I shouldn't bitch - yet I do...)

Sometimes I prefer to make quirky or silly images - Barbie and Dawn dolls have become some of my favorite subjects. But I've noticed those projects don't garner much of a reaction - not with instructors. Classmates seem to enjoy them, which is the point - they got it - they're meant to be enjoyed. But then does that disqualify it as art?

Why can't the Dawn doll look like a Dawn doll deep in the tragic grip of an oxycontin & tequila addiction? To "transform" her to look more human (with ridiculous macro/depth of field) would just make it weird, or sad. To me, the point is, it's a doll. A doll with a nasty drug problem. That's funny to me. I don't want her "transformed" to look like anything other than the pink plastic junkie that she is.

Admittedly, I still have a long way to go to making sense of all this, but I'm hoping that if I ever do become an "artist," that I won't have to leave my straightforward sensibilities behind, or avoid humor. That so much of what I see, all over campus, is devoid of humor is troubling. Y'all need to lighten the fuck up and have some fun. Isn't that the point of all this?

New Year, New Me, New Ewe...

(thanks for the photo, Lisa!)

Good lord this thing is dusty. Put the blog in storage last year when I decided I'd go back to school at the ripe ol' age of GET OFF MY LAWN.

It wasn't so much the classes as it was the homework... Way. Too. Much. I get it - you have to repeatedly huff the chemicals - build up your tolerance. Make umpteen many prints of whatthefuckever to get it right and make the excessive quantity to be of the utmost quality. Blow me.

I missed playing with the blog, but the worst part - no TV. No Real Housewives of Anywhere. I haven't missed that much TV since I had mono in high school and could only lay in bed and drool.

But, I lived through it - mono, and my first semester - with a 3.8 GPA even. My proudest achievement - no longer the chopstick chair, though I love it so - no, it's the macaroni art I turned in for my final 2D project. I'd like to think I'm the only one who's ever used pasta for a final art school project, but that can't be true, can it?

(not a holiday piece - just complimentary colors on the wheel and I had a shit ton of red paint to use up)

To make this delicious piece at home, all you need is the pasta of your choice, whatever paint you have on hand, some elmer's glue, a bucket and rubber gloves.

Mix your paint with some elmers and maybe a little water - get it to the consistency of a good alfredo sauce - saucy, but not too thin, not too thick - it needs to evenly coat your 'roni. Dump in the pasta, mix to coat, then drop lovingly all over the substrate of your choice. Change colors and repeat however many times you like. Let dry and if you like, spray w/ a coat of poly urethane for gloss & protection. Bon Apetit!

Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. Not only did it look the way I wanted, it was FUN. Would love to make another one. Any requests?

But in the meantime... many more photo classes to get through and this year I made one resolution - to make a brand new photo every day in 2011 and post it on Flickr. An actual, considered photograph - not the junk I spew out of my phone every day. Something just for me, every day, not for a class.

So far, so good...

Happy New Year to all of you and I hope 2011 is a kickass year!

Drowning in Art

Well, I wouldn't call it "art." Right now it's just "stuff." CCA is a shit ton of work. Hardest job I've ever had. The fire hose of work never ends.

So far, in the past two months I've:

• made one chopstick sculpture (see above)
• created one rectilinear model made first out of clay, then remade in florist's foam which was then gesso'ed, sanded, spackled, sanded, gesso'ed, sanded, painted, sanded, spackled, sanded and repainted
• created a wooden sculpture made from three pieces of scrap wood that were planed, sanded, glued together, cut into a pyramid, sanded, then recut in two places and assembled into a sculpture, sanded, stained, sanded, restained
• made a base for the wooden sculpture which was cut, sanded, routed, wood puttied, sanded and covered in four coats of stain
• painted three color charts, one a color wheel, one a grey value scale and one a chart of 150 tiny squares of color (that took a few weeks to get through - a real pleasure)
• cut a mandala out of a map of colorado with an xacto knife, cutting out tiny chicken, cow and semi truck silhouettes along with the mcdonald's logo
• painted a ginormous color wheel to go behind said mandala which was also 'laminated' with packing tape before cutting, for durability, and reinforced with wire on the back for stability
• drew 40 thumbnails across two large sheets of bristol paper which were then painted, taking only about 300 hours and four tubes of acrylic paint
• written two brief papers on visits to local museums
• printed nine final color photo prints which took a total of about 400 hours and maybe 150 sheets of Fuji paper
• printed 10 final black & white prints which surprisingly took only about 200 hours and maybe only 100 sheets of Illford paper
• developed four rolls of black & white film, which includes rolling the film onto the reels in total darkness, working with fantastic chemicals and drying the film
• had nine rolls of color film processed
• cut all that film into negative strips for contact sheets
• printed umpteen contact sheets
• made countless test strips - both color and black & white
• aced two quizzes & got a solid B on another
• eaten four large bags of trader joe's trail mix, 117 power bars, way too many Burrito Shop tacos and drank dozens of Naked Green juices
• drank 812 cups of fully caffeinated coffee, which should concern every last one of you walking this planet with me

If nothing else, it turns out that I have a gift for rolling film onto reels in complete darkness. Takes me all of two minutes with perfect rolling every time and even my cuts, trimming the film at both ends, are perfectly straight. That part I love. Pouring the chemicals & agitating the canister for 20 minutes? Not so much.

Next up - art history mid term, final project for color photo and several more assignments for my other classes.

While it's extremely challenging and very enjoyable for the most part, the quantity over quality issue is concerning, but it is only my first year. Maybe this is the norm, to simply expose you to as much of the basics as possible before taking advanced classes.

The thing is, though, a sleep-deprived, brain-mushed student at a traditional college probably won't lose a finger on a table saw. It could still happen, but seems unlikely. At CCA, this seems very likely, especially when I hear my classmates talking about staying up until 5am to finish projects. Granted, they're probably not working on homework all those hours, but that's part of college life and should be expected.

At any rate, somehow I'm getting it all done and staying caught up. That surprises me almost every day. That, and my ability to study art history while driving to school and eat a sandwich with one hand while moving a print through developer, stop and fixer with the other.

Onward...

Um, Yeah...

Tomorrow is my first day of school at CCA. I suspect that not only will I be at least 20 years older than 99% of the entire student body, but perhaps older than most of the instructors as well.

I just colored my hair to cover up the grey but it won't take long for the roots to come in. From far away, I'll blend right in, clad in my signature 15-year-old boy style - cargo pants, old t-shirt and hoodie. A real Monet. Get close and it'll be painfully obvious how many years I've had in the saddle. Of which I'm very proud, I might add.

The best part is knowing now what I didn't know 20 years ago. It'll still be a lot of work, but now I know how to prioritize and work smarter. Sure, that'll only be so helpful when I'm trying to learn how to sculpt something, but hey, confidence has gotta be 90% of the equation, so all I really have to do is sell my work, right?. "This isn't just an ashtray... this represents everything wrong with our world today - you see it, right?"

Great side benefit of going to art school - cheap & easy Christmas presents. Ashtrays, candy dishes, spoon rests and cheese plates. Just you wait - they'll be worth tens of cents in years to come.

Party Lines

This morning my mom forwarded a blast email to me and her friends from the Carly campaign, which I always enjoy because it gives me an opportunity to respond and provide additional perspective the politician doesn't include.

Carly is anti-choice, so right there I can't vote for her, but more than that, she is not at all as qualified or as successful as she'd like everyone to believe. (And let's not forget, McCain fired her dumb ass for repeatedly fugging up on his campaign.)

I read her book, which was mediocre at best, and in it you learn that the idea to buy compaq wasn't hers. It was the idea of two board members and most thought it was a bad idea (and it was a struggle to convince everyone it was a good move). She latched onto it, looking for a major event that would make her look like a huge wheeler-dealer.

She effectively managed the merger, but didn't live up to her promises to turn HP around in three years' time, which ultimately is why she was sacked, not because she has a vagina.

I'd rather have the option of voting for Tom Campbell, but because we allow politicians to buy their way into elections (like NutMeg Twitman), he's no longer an option because he couldn't compete with Carly's self-financed war chest (she left HP with over $40 million).

Like NutMeg, she's bored, has lots of cash to burn and loves a high-profile gig. She couldn't care less about California or its citizens.

Additional fun facts about Carly:

Fiorina Admitted Keeping HP Profits Overseas Even Though It Hurt U.S. Economy. Carly Fiorina said, "We left billions of dollars in cash overseas because of the differences in tax rates..." [Fiorina Remarks, Milwaukee, WI]

Hewlett-Packard Held $14 Billion In Profit Overseas To Avoid Paying Taxes. [Washington Post, 1/2/04] [also, in the midst of laying off tens of thousands of workers, she kept all the corporate jets – way to cut spending, Carly]

According to Fortune magazine:

[During Fiorina's tenure] HP lost its position as the #1 PC maker to Dell, saw their stock price cut in half, and laid off 18,000 workers. These are the numbers that are clear. Fiorina’s claim that she created jobs is simply a lie. In fact, Portfolio magazine rated Fiorina the “19th Worst CEO of All Time” saying:

A consummate self-promoter, Fiorina was busy pontificating on the lecture circuit and posing for magazine covers while her company floundered. She paid herself handsome bonuses and perks while laying off thousands of employees to cut costs. The merger Fiorina orchestrated with Compaq in 2002 was widely seen as a failure. She was ousted in 2005 [with a $21 million dollar severance, plus another $21 million or so in stock and her pension, which was not included in the severance package]. HP stock lost half its value during Fiorina’s tenure.

Even a fellow conservative is no fan of Carly:

Arianna Packard, granddaughter of one of HP's founders, has attacked Fiorina, writing on the conservative Web site redstate.com "I know a little bit about Carly Fiorina, having watched her almost destroy the company my grandfather founded." Packard favors Chuck Devore, the state assemblyman who is trailing both Fiorina and former U.S. Rep. Tom Campbell in most polls of the race.

For the record, I don't think any politician is trustworthy or has anyone's interest at heart other than his or her own, and I sure as shit can't vote for anyone who is anti-choice/anti-equality. That anyone could, simply because she belongs to the same party one supports, should buy a plane ticket to Jonestown and get some of that tasty kool-aid that'll save your soul.

But I digress...

I didn't attack anyone on the distribution list, I just provided additional information as outlined above. Sadly, one of my mother's friends, who instead of going through menopause entered a perpetual state of PMS, responded directly to me to let me know she didn't appreciate my comments.

Was it too much trouble to just delete my message? Couldn't muster up a logical response and join the discussion? Apparently not. Which I find sad. She could have some valuable perspective to add to the debate, but instead, she did the lazy thing and reacted emotionally.

She chose to attack me personally for views that don't agree with hers. Which is why our country never moves forward, but just steadily toward the great abyss.

I love that my father, one of the staunchest conservatives I know and a wonderful man of logic, will engage in a productive debate on any topic. I learn a lot from him - I can only hope he learns something from me now & then - but we move forward better informed. We may not always share the same philosophies, but I would *much* rather hear his side of things than not. To ignore him simply because I don't agree with his views puts me at a loss.

This 'friend' of my mother's should pull her head out of her ass and be part of the solution, but that would take effort. Apparently she's got hers and the rest of us can take a flying leap. Oh, and she'll never read this post, as that too would take effort, so, lady, you can suck it.

Go ahead and vote with your Democraps and Republicants regardless of their policies, lack of integrity and backbone and watch how nothing ever changes. Keep subscribing to the same old bullshit non-thinking emotional tactics and then complain about each other gumming up the works.

The sheep may outnumber the wolves, but that can't last forever.

Working Girl

I am a working girl. I shake my money maker for a living, which as it turns out, happens to be a camera, which I don't shake as much as I gingerly transport to various locations to make pretty pictures for clients.

It's fun work, which is why I love it. I grew tired of crying at my desk at my last corporate job so I made a change. Best decision I ever made. That, and buying a juicer.

Now, just because it's fun, and not, say, curing cancer or cleaning up the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, doesn't make it any less important - to me. It's how I make my living and people tell me I'm good at it, so it would seem I'm on the right track.

I mention this because... Yesterday I watched an episode of the Rachel Zoe Project - don't judge me - it's fascinating to watch such a tiny, frail creature walk and talk like a real human.

I'm sure I watch her show for the same reason I like watching Kell on Earth, The City and one or two of the Real Housewives - women making their way in the world. I dig it. I've been a working girl for over 20 years - I identify with independent ladyfolk.

There is a point to all this... stay with me...

During the show, Rachel and her hubby are in New York for fashion week, having flown in a few days early to enjoy the city before the shows start. She gets a phone call from Naomi "Slappy" Campbell who's doing a charity fashion show and wants Rachel to style it.

Of course she's going to say yes - IT'S HER JOB. Her husband starts whining and carrying on about how he won't get to spend any time with her after all. She seemed to feel guilty about taking the job, stuck between a slappy rock & a whiny hard place, whereas I don't know if a man would feel guilt about taking on the work, or just annoyed at having a whiny spouse.

Now, if the tables were turned and HE had some "important" job and a client called needing his services, maybe Rachel would whine about it, but it would be dismissed as her being a baby and get over it honey cause daddy's gotta make a living so go shopping and buy yourself a hat.

I couldn't help but be annoyed by his reaction to her saying yes to a huge job, especially when her entire business depends on that phone ringing (and a silly reality show where she repeatedly says "major," but you get my point).

Except for not having my own reality show and never saying "major," that's pretty much how my business runs. I am dependent on someone deciding to pick up the phone to call and hire me. I don't (yet) have the luxury of saying No. What I said No to was a dreary 9-to-5 slogfest that makes me want to light shit on fire and stab people in the neck with pens.

Anyway... my point...

I get the feeling that, in general, working women still aren't taken seriously, or their jobs, by men. Like we're just playing Worky Lady but our *real* job is cleaning up the mess in the kitchen after cooking all the food. It's irrelevant what that job is, whether it's building rockets or playing with bracelets.

I say this because I've dealt with this first-hand. There are days when I am slammed with post-processing after shooting a large job. This is work that cannot be put off or done only between the hours of X and Y. It has to be done when it has to be done, which I can never predict, and that's how the job goes.

There was one time when I got the whiny "how much longer do you have to do that" response to me having to miss out on some TV to finish a job. Yes, I do have to do this now and I don't know for how much longer so you're going to have to put your big pants on and get yourself your own lollipop.

I'm sorry - that sounds shitty - but it was disappointing to realize that what I was doing wasn't taken as seriously as some other sort of job like, playing computer games. Turn the tables and you don't ever see me hanging in the doorway with a droopy lip wondering when we can go out & play. I'm happy to do my own thing until work is done, which, for the record, happens at least 75% of the time, because daddy's gotta make a living and I'm happy to let him make the hell out of it.

My point...

Boys, in my opinion, still aren't comfortable with girls saddling up and doing their own thing. Some may be - I think I know a few who are - though I wonder if they'd be supportive and understanding of the demands of their ladies' jobs and not get a little whiny if it started to cut in to playtime.

Of course all of this is based on the bulletproof scientific data of my one experience and the Rachel Zoe Project, which is totally major.

On Demand Lazy

(I had this radio, in mint green - LOVED it.)

It's true... On-demand programming is making us even more lazy than we've already become, and I know lazy - it was my major in college.

The other day I tweeted that I was waiting for Click & Clack to start on NPR when someone responded that I should just download the podcast. I have, when I used to commute into the city. I loved listening to Ricky Gervais's podcasts on Bart - made it fun, and Bart is never fun.

But now I rarely have 30 minutes of uninterrupted time I can devote to hovering near my computer and I don't use my iPod anymore. I suppose I could while vacuuming or something, but see above re. lazy. I vacuum about as often as I churn butter.

When I'm driving all over the Bay Area for work, I'm always tuned in to (or tuning back to) KCBS for traffic updates. With an older car that uses an older iPod adapter, I couldn't negotiate between that and the radio without driving off the road. Just too much trouble.

I grew up listening to the radio. It was always on when I was wee - Mom listened to KCBS at home and in the car she listened to a classical station. (KKHI?)

I got a transistor radio for my sixth birthday and ran down the battery every night listening to KFRC. Before too long I upgraded to an AC model I could leave on 24/7, which I did. My brothers and I made cassette tapes from radio broadcasts, some of which I still have.

Through high school and college I was always tuned in to KFOG, KQAK, KITS and sometimes KFJC and KSCU. Not a lot of variety in the Bay Area, but I grew to love DJs on every station - friendly voices connected to the big wide world beyond my little neighborhood.

What I loved most was finally hearing my favorite song come on after listening to a bunch of stuff I didn't like. Enduring 45 minutes of mediocre stuff just to get to the best 3 minutes of the hour teaches one patience, and you can do other things during that time.

Listening to a podcast means devoting a solid half hour to active listening, without any convenient commercial breaks. Forget pausing - where's the sport in pausing any time you want? In MY day, we had to learn how to pee, make a sandwich and get a drink all within 3 minutes' time.

Not only that, but you can learn lots of fun info from a good DJ. Trivia about bands, upcoming tour dates, who's in rehab, etc. Stuff I'm sure is all over the internet today, but who has time to go look up all that random crap?

Plus, if you knew a certain show was going to be on, you made a date to listen. If you missed it, you missed it. No downloading the program later like a lazy ass. You had to care about showing up to tune in.

You kids can keep your on-demand podcasts. As Elvis Costello said, Radio! Radio!

My Summer of Ass

I was really looking forward to this summer. Thought it might be a true summer vacation like I've not enjoyed in many years, where you can loll away the warm days doing whatever, whenever...

All in all, things were going pretty well. Before David accepted a great new job, we enjoyed many afternoons running together on Bay Farm Island... going to BBQs... seeing movies... Had a nice trip to Oregon with the family... Then things took a bit of a dark turn... meteorologically and, uh... rectally.

The fog came in. Hardcore. Weeks of cold, dark, overcast days.
That turned out to be the least of my problems.

This is not a post I want to write, but I feel I must as I have learned so much about colorectal health in the past few weeks, I'm compelled to share if only to maybe help just one other person avoid a truly heinous hemorrhoid experience.

First - almost everyone on this planet will deal with this situation at some point in his or her lifetime. All you people walking around with a smile on your face but a slight hitch in your giddyup - we know. You're not fooling anyone. It sucks. But I have information that may help you.

Second - if you're not sure what's going on back there, get thee to your doctor and make sure everything is copacetic. With the prevalence of colon cancer in our country, better safe than sorry.

Third - stone root. Buy this herbal tincture, thank it for all it's going to do for you, and use the ever loving shit out of it. More on this in a moment.

Fourth - fiber. Duh, I know, but getting enough can be a challenge and it can take a little time to acclimate your body to an increased amount.

Finally - water. I've gotten into a bad habit of not getting enough every day. Working on improving that, as staying hydrated is a huge advantage in warding off constipation.

Which brings me to my sad, painful story. This whole thing started not because of constipation - it was quite the opposite. Something made me ill and I was making frequent visits to the john. It seemed to be an effortless purge, but evidently my insides were not happy. Diarrhea can cause hemorrhoids - I never knew that before.

But whatever - it wasn't any big deal - we have the typical OTC ointments and creams - I was sure those would take care of it. I was wrong.

For some reason, this internal swollen vein was very angry and not going to go away quietly. I tried everything we had on-hand and nothing helped. Witch hazel - meh. Prep-H - useless - and it smells awful.

The only other thing we had was a benzocaine ointment, which, as it turned out, I may be allergic to. It seemed to work at first, and then things took a troubling turn. In addition to the venous problem, I now had an ass rash. Just the way you want to spend your summer, am I right?

You can't imagine how uncomfortable it was going for a run with THAT going on back there. Makes me cry all over again just thinking about it. And you can't scratch - you can't - you'll regret it - trust me. [still crying]

So I scoured the internets for information. The very best thing I found, a true miracle herb, is stone root. Get the tincture and follow the directions on the label, usually 1-2 dropperfuls (30-40 drops) in a small glass of water, 3-4x a day.

Not sure if that's a daily maintenance dose or a 'medicinal' dose during troubled times... I'll use a smaller daily dose for maintenance & see how it goes.

After just one day, it helped me immensely. It didn't take care of the ass rash, but thankfully I found Tucks at Drugstore.com - hydrocortisone - and that cleared it up pronto and killed the itch.

Also - huge thanks to my good friend "Sacajawea" for recommending Calmoseptine. She endured horrendous hemorrhoids (and a fissure) while pregnant. As its name implies, it's a wonderfully calming salve that feels utterly delicious on suffering skin. I might start using it all the time just because it feels that good.

But - but - I tried something else with the stone root that I can't recommend, of course, but I didn't think it would do me any harm. I put 4-5 drops on a damp cotton ball and used that as you would witch hazel, and I'm telling you - miracle.

But beware, the tincture has a good amount of alcohol in it and if you have any sensitive areas, it will sting like a bastard, but that's how you know it's working.

Really, I didn't care about the sting. I just wanted to speed up the process and I'm convinced it did. Shit, if I'm drinking it, what harm can it do to my ass? In just a few days' time, it totally cured my problem. I'll keep using it for maintenance and hope this never happens again.

So, with your stone root, take your horse chestnut and butcher's broom (I took a double dose) - you can find both in one capsule from Planetary Herbals - I'm sure there are other, similar products - and get your fiber & water.

I also increased my vitamin C to 4 grams daily, as C is the foundation of all our connective tissue & speeds healing.

Vitamin A is supposed to be beneficial for vein health, so I concocted a vegetable fruit smoothie with lots of fiber & colon-happy stuff. Such as...

- the juice of 3-4 carrots or enough to make 1/2-1 cup juice

- 1/4-1/2 cup of the fine carrot fiber from the juicer bin

- 1 medium (or two small) apples, peels included, cored, diced

- 1 banana (for texture, vitamins/minerals)

- 1 scoop Organic Frog Greens Today or a 2-3 cups fresh greens

- 1 cup crushed ice

- 2-3 Tbs ground flax seed

- 1-2 Tbs honey

and if you want it, a scoop of protein powder (I use brown rice as I don't like soy & am allergic to dairy/whey.)

Blend the crap outta that for a few minutes then enjoy slowly. It's a meal in a glass, not a quaff. It'll take you some time to get through it, but it's worth it. And it's not so high-fiber that you'll be cramping in an hour - it's mellow

But if you're not used to high-fiber meals, leave out the flax seed and the carrot pulp at first - add those in gradually over time. Keep the apple peels though - lots of good stuff in those.

Finally, if you can, get yourself a standing desk so you're not sitting all day long - that's no good anyway, especially for your ass. And do your Kegels - helps keep all those muscles down there toned, and you can do them anywhere, any time.

I never thought I'd have such a problem, being fairly active, never sitting still for long, eating as healthy as I do (the occasional doughnut aside) and being as regular as Old Faithful. Just goes to show you, you never really know what's going on in your butt.

Dear Ned

Dear Ned,

You really scared the scat outta me the other day when I walked into the bedroom to change my clothes and saw you standing in the backyard, staring at me through the window.

We've lived here 10 years and have never before seen a live deer anywhere on this island and then BLAM - you appeared in our backyard like it was your regular summer retreat.

You happened to arrive on a Sunday, when all city and county offices are closed, such as Animal Control and the Department of Fish & Game.

The police answered the phone, but couldn't have cared less about a deer hangin in the city. Just so you know, I did not phone the Oakland PD.

Amazingly enough, none of our neighbors were home while you were here. We had you all to ourselves. Had I not snapped a few photos, you could have been a hallucination. Even my parents didn't believe me at first.

Of all the stories one might make up - really? Why would I lie about a deer in our backyard? Anyway...

I just wanted you to know how much we enjoyed your visit; watching you leap effortlessly over the back fence to eat our neighbor's plants, scarfing up the oats I put out for you and curling up for a nap under the giant sequoia.

We miss you but hope you got home safely.