21.6.09

exterminator in chief


so am thinking about this whole obama killing the fly on tv and have come to one conclusion.


we are obsessed with famous people. so much so that we are unable to realize that killing a fly is not that noteworthy. i know - i do it all the time. this obsession leads us to think that people who are famous cannot do ordinary things. they don't kill pests or snore or watch tv or leave skid marks on their underwear. when famous people do these things what happens?


these things become famous.


and yes, i did watch the fly swatting action on youtube. it was funny. seeing famous people doing mundane things is funny. it's when they do the famous things that we all yawn and ignore them. no one really gets into a tizzy when a movie star makes a movie or a president signs a bill. these things are ho hum in their lives and therefore ours. we expect famous people to do those things and therefore it rarely makes front page news.


i suppose we all get noticed when we do the unexpected. i just think it's funny that we all do those things and expect that famous people do not.


he got that sucker.


20.6.09

mushroomhead - literally


heard about this on NPR today...mushroom name means 'drew's penis'


HEHE




summertime

so in honor of the fact that it has been raining and gloomy for the past 3 weeks or so i am going to start singing my summertime song. perhaps i can counteract the continual statement from all of the locals if you mention the weather:

"we need the moisture"

my garden disagrees.

we pick peaches and we make a pie
sit and eat it by the fireside
joking talking lauging feeling wild
summertime is like a happy child

playing kickball on the side yard lawn
running 'round with silly costumes on
drinking whiskey while we're shootin' pool
summertime is when we break the rules

dancing underneath the full moon light
nothing better on a friday night
pickin' strummin' with the violin
summertime it lets the music in

jumping off beside the waterfall
sticking toes in cracks to climb the wall
drinking homebrew while we're throwing discs
summertime is when we take the risks

i miss summer when in comes the fall
winter's cold and isn't for us all
spring is beautiful but just too sweet
summertime it really can't be beat

18.6.09

tumbleweed




another thought for the day.

tumbleweed.

it's a western icon.

and yet, it's an invasive species from russia.

what's really american after all?

life on mars

got an email from my sister today that was pretty funny.

"I was bored and looking up the dinosaur dig that we saw in Hanksville and I found out some interesting information about the area. If you all remember, we saw a research station while driving along scenic Cow Dung Road. We all speculated at the time about its purpose and I wanted to inform you all that it is the Mars Desert Research Center; Popular Science did a feature on it: http://www.popsci.com/military-aviation-amp-space/article/2009-01/getting-ready-mars-migration

Anyway, I thought it was cool...and I'm giggling to myself as I sit here picturing a group of pissed off teenagers (suffering from drug withdrawal) pushing Mormon handcarts through the desert running into a group of highly trained scientists wearing high-tech space suits (training for a Mars exploation) while a lizard chuckles (and enjoys his dragonfly lunch) from a nearby a bentonite rock!"

just loving the way she writes!!!

not to mention that i think it's amazing that they are preparing to land on mars about 45 minutes from where i live. there are days when i think that living in utah is like living on another planet but, well, this takes that a little to literally!

cowboy

a bit ago i was on a training for work and my co-staff decided she wanted to do a sunrise ceremony for the crew. we woke them early and climbed up on top of the bench, dodging prickly pear and juniper, to gaze out over the henry mountains. we stood in silence as the sun rose orange and pink over the blue peaks and dusty grey cliffs. a line came to my head.

the silence of the sunrise was the only glaring sound...

i could almost hear it...the low sizzle of the sun grating against the reef, the swish of its rays cutting through the wind, the hum of its warmth pressing on my face. it was thundering in my ears without making a sound.

closing my eyes i wondered who would be out here...who would see such a sight before the machines came out to grade the roads. before there was pavement and bed and breakfasts and ranches and atv's out here in this wild landscape. i thought of the native people, the settlers, the cowboys.

cowboy.

what an amazing icon - the hero and villian of the west. tough and kind and wild and tamed all at the same time. how many had been right where i was? how many had seen the sunrise like i had?

i am no cowboy.

who am i?

what ties me to this image? i see him there - dusty, strong. what i feel is a yearning. i want him. i want him with me.

the silence of the sunrise was the only glaring sound
he stands there on the mesa with the sagebrush all around
his feet are shod in leather like the skin upon his face
unnaturally fitting is his presence in this place

oh cowboy
lonely creature of the plains
i dream you in this dusty windswept dawn
i long to hold your calloused hand and hear your voice again
you whispering my name
press against your solid frame
but i've lost you to this lonely road you're on

my tears they fall like raindrops on the shattered desert ground
arresting dusty hoofbeats as the cattle mill around
my breaths like gentle breezes ruffling his feathered hair
wet with sweat beneath the stetson i gave him to always wear

oh cowboy
lonely creature of the plains
i dream you in this dusty windswept dawn
i long to hold your calloused hand and hear your voice again
you whispering my name
press against your solid frame
but i've lost you to this lonely road you're on


the night it falls with whispers of the stars far overhead
there's a blanket for his pillow and another for his bed
by the campfire he lies quiet with an aching in his bones
and he knows it's my heart calling telling him to come back home

oh cowboy
lonely creature of the plains
i dream you in this dusty windswept dawn
i long to hold your calloused hand and hear your voice again
you whispering my name
press against your solid frame
but i've lost you to this lonely road you're on