Lights and tunnels...

As in, I'm seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.

And that light surrounds a 90-minute massage on Friday night.

I expect to life to return to some semblance of normal -- as normal as is possible where I'm concerned -- after that.

Miss you guys!

Back soon...

I had planned to finally write about last (!) month's NYC trip, and a few other things this weekend... but then I spent most of yesterday making several people cry with the news that someone they knew and loved died unexpectedly.

So I'm pretty drained and have a hell of a week ahead, so I'll be back with those posts soon.

I'm alive!

I know it doesn't seem like it, considering how barren my blog is this week....

And I DID start thinking perhaps I had contracted West Nile Virus last week, when this critter bite on my foot wouldn't stop itching, hurting, or swelling.

The damned thing is still visible, but at least I don't feel it anymore.

Now I think it was a vampire bite.

And now for something completely different...

... a not-so-pleasant tale from hula class.

There I was, stretching before class, marveling at how stretchy I was, feeling a little zen-like, getting my mind in touch with my body and into a dance-y place... when I noticed a bug atop my sock*.

I swiped at it, thinking it would just fly away.

Instead, I ended up with a smear of blood on my sock.

At first, I thought it was bug guts... and then I realized...

BLLEEEAGH! It was MY blood! It was feeding on me! (Don't know what it was. Didn't look at all like a mosquito, which is my most common predator...)

And now, that mofo's bite itches like a sonofabitch.

Fucking fucker.


*yeah, we're supposed to dance barefoot... but the floor on which we dance -- in an elementary school auditorium/multi-purpose room -- is filthy, freezing, and my feet stick to it. hence, the sockage.

Unintended consequences...

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my hula class? I don't think I have. But I do. So much so that I'm now going twice a week (I had no idea this was an option until recently -- Kumu ((our teacher, hula master)) split the class in half, and some diehards go to both. I'm now one of them.).

Not only has this been a fabulous creative outlet for me, it's getting me into shape like nothing else I've done in years. As I've mentioned here before, hula's a lot more challenging than I ever expected -- physically AND artistically. The hula you think you know isn't the "traditional" (kahiko) hula we've been doing for the past year. Not only is it a completely different style of movement from all those jazz classes I took in my youth, it's much more physically demanding. I never thought that I'd end up drenched with sweat from hula. And it's not just my out-of-shape ass that's sweating, with calves on fire (fucking uehe -- the most physically challenging step for me); many of my hula brothers and sisters are also sweating like crazy and breathing as heavily as I am during class.

And that's what's finally prompted me to step up my workouts. I want to be a better dancer, so I'm making it a point -- for the first time in years -- to get consistent exercise throughout the week. No excuses. Because I know that if I don't, I'll curse my lazy bones every time I do a step ilalo (that's dipping down low) and struggle. I want to focus on the artistry, and not be so challenged by the physical. I am competitive, after all. I want to rank among the best dancers in my class (not that there's an actual competition; this is just how my psyche works).

And now, I'm starting to see the changes in myself. I knew I was getting stronger, but I've also dropped some weight. I thought I was just imagining it, but I can actually see it in my face in that picture I posted of myself a couple of weeks ago. And a couple of recent shopping trips have confirmed it (not to mention, the looser fit of the clothes I already own). It's not a lot of weight, but I can see the difference. And a few others have noticed it too; I've even gotten elevator eyes recently from several men I know.

I can even feel muscles in my ass I've never even noticed before. Why am I touching my own ass? Someone has to. Besides, it's higher and tighter than it's been in... oh, who the hell knows. Who knew there were muscles in MY glutes??

Funny that it took this little dance class to finally get me on the path to better fitness. I had no idea this is where hula would lead me.

An open letter...

... to those who produce/direct/shoot live concerts for television:

Why, why, WHY do you ALL insist on so many crowd shots?

I know what a crowd at a concert looks like. As a matter of fact, I've been part of a concert crowd. Many times.

I'm not tuning into your damned show to see the fucking crowd.

KEEP THE CAMERAS ON THE PERFORMERS, PLEASE.

Especially when they're as yummy as my Dave.

Especially when his band is playing one of my favorite songs. (Especially when something is wrong with his guitar and he starts playing air guitar instead. Omigod. How funny is that??)





That is all.


Signed,

A Dorky Music Lover

Oh, goody...

Time for the annual neighborhood moron fireworks show.

This should last into the wee hours.

I expect someone's roof will be set on fire at some point. I just hope it's not mine.

Woo. Hoo. Happy 4th.

Total recall...

So there I was, driving home from hula class tonight, windows down (mind you, this doesn't happen most nights, but it's surprisingly balmy for July in San Francisco...meaning it's in the 60s and there's no fog), radio on... when I was instantly transported back to my teenage years in SoCal.



First, it was because of a little Van Halen. And I had to turn up the volume. Totally reminded me of all those warm summer nights when my friends and I would just get in my car and drive aimlessly for hours because we were bored out of our gourds in suburbia but didn't have any money to really do anything. (Clearly, gas prices were much lower then.)


Up next on the radio tonight? This song by Heart (the part you'll recognize starts about 1:12 into the clip). Oh, man, how I adored them. I wanted to be Ann Wilson all through my adolescence. They kinda lost me in the big hair years, but in the 70's and early 80's? I loved no one more, and I still love this song. How is it that I still know all the words, nearly 30 (gulp) years later?

I couldn't believe it when the next song up was by Cheap Trick. Suddenly, I was 15 again, seeing them in concert with my friends, escorted by one of their older brothers and some of his friends. It was so cute how over-protective they were of us that night. I think I developed crushes on each of them. Except my friend's brother; he was kind of a dick. (And look how adorable Robin Zander is in that video. Sigh...)

Next? This ditty by The Cars, and I was back in my neighbor's Jeep, getting rides to and from school, along with three or four other kids who lived on my street, including the boy with whom I had the most chaste romance ever (largely because, as I later learned, he was fucking some other girl from our neighborhood. And since I was a Good Girl, I was long way from fucking anyone. Ahh, youth). I didn't even like The Cars; I still don't, but I do stop and listen from time to time because they remind me of Randy's blue Jeep and the laughs we had while he drove us around like a maniac in his completely unsafe vehicle.

Good times.

Man, I'm old.