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i am almost dead from excitement, i tell you. i am so excited, in fact, that i'm channeling Aunt Sylvia (long story)...you know how you sort of "think out" or "hear" what you're about to write, as you write it? well all i can hear is Sylvia's Yiddish....a sure sign great things are brewing. so - here's what we have...first the long backstory, as you knew would happen. diva's grandmother (my brother's mother) came monday to walk her, as husband is out of town, and Youngblood cannot be in the same room with her (diva). grandma took diva, and diva hasn't been returned home since. a matter soon for the police, but a story for another day. (and an exaggeration, so calm down). i wander Barnes & Noble aimlessly...i do not have to be home to perform any Becky Home Ec-y function. tra-la-la through the crafts, now the audio...oh who's Katie Perry? oh my cell phone rings as I Kissed A Girl begins loudly to play. and God help me not to de-compose myself right there - it's a gallery owner saying they are interested in having my fiber art in a show. i could just die, but there is the unusual soundtrack blaring, but who cares...you know artists. so i'm wondering which fiber pieces he is speaking of, since i haven't actually been working in fiber for a while, and y'all would be so very proud of me for my suave-aciousness in finding out. they want 8 pieces. very cool. okay so i leave with a latte, feeling very grown up and self-important, very Mary Tyler Moore Throwing The Beret-ish, and head home. to clean out the litterbox. life hands it to you. keeps you real. then, okay? then today? again with the no-dog-no-husband house. hung out and talked to an actual co-worker who was enrapturizing us with stories of her medical conditin that rivals ANYTHING, anything i tell you, from that cable medical channel. got home later than usual. cleaned the catbox. ate a Lean Cuisine while waiting for my computer to warm up. tmi. okay. checked my email. and THAT's where the story gets good. y'all....i ask you...what have i been blah-blah-blahing about endlessly till you wanted to kill me? Squam? so i get an innocent enough email sure right from Elizabeth the creator/founder/director/fairy godmother of Squam...the new classes are up. (insert huge-lung scream) so i click on the link....and...and... the F.R.E.D.* would not NOT let me onto the World Wide Web. bastards! flaming black-hearted bastards of an internet company. and to think i gave up profanity 2 weeks ago as part of the Wellness campaign at work (since giving up an afternoon snack is unreasonable). BANSHEE SCREAM. options...options...ok - wearing sweats and my Big Girl Shirt from work..silk trouser socks...library is out. ahhh - this is what neighbors are for. Bam bam on the door followed by a huffing puffing "i need your internet NOW" and shazam! i'm in. i just needed to see it. but wait...i experience chest pains...2 sessions....two...deux...not one, but one more than one...shitchristdammit. that cost a twinkie. now what?? i scroll and scan quickly - neighbor reaching for her phone. thank her. walk home. notice i have 2 different shoes on - a red croc and a boot of some sort. no coat. very cold. get home. email Elizabeth to tell her EXACTLY what i think of this. oh - lo! webification! kiss kiss on the mouse. so now go here and fall in love. i'm exhausted. good night. L oh crud...the * needs explaining...well, okay another story. while i was still in college, i swore with all my heart that i would never not ever work for a COUNTRY WESTERN radio station. or an oldies station. ever. i had standards. so midway through my last year, i'm broke go figure, and the head of the dept comes to me and says she has an oppty for me...a radio station heard some of my work and want to hire me. they will work with my school schedule. they will pay me real American dollars. every week. i'm down with that. oh yeah...country. and western. i show up the first evening to train. the overnight guy (who will work AFTER my shift) is sleeping on a couch in the "lobby" and smells like 14 cartons of cigarettes were lit off on him. and he has gas. and his dog, who is sleeping on the floor beside him, has gas. there is a shotgun yes a shotgun leaning next to the couch. i'm far from home. locked in this building. with madmen. about to go on the air at a country western station. my boss comes out to give me the tour and i meet FRED, the machine that plays the commercials, which are on cartridges resembling 8-tracks. actually there were 2 machines - one named WILMA for the AM station, and FRED for the FM. so about 20 minutes on the air, and i hear an alarm going off LOUDLY. my boss jumps up, i follow, and soon learn how FRED got his name "F-ing Retarded Electrical Device" my boss screams as he tries to un-jam the thing. that's the true story. the shotgun, you ask? okay, but then to bed. this station was waaay back away from the road behind a bunch of other buildings, and backing up to some woods. hidden nicely. and although it was off of a main route through the town, you could not see it from anywhere. so the area is known for 2 things: the prison that housed the 1st ever electric chair, and skinheads. so here's a little Jewish girl, who grew up in a nice suburban neighborhood, sitting in a dumpheap hellhole of COUNTRY WESTERN radio station. and on my first night, the boss tells me that if i hear anything, or see anything move out that picture window that basically IS the back wall, i should call the police asap. the skinheads were threatening to take the media hostage. we were the only media open after 5pm. what a desperate and typical situation i was in, eh? shortest job i ever had. now good night. L.