tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2945347304490362292024-03-05T05:38:05.061-08:00The Spur of DelightsCassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-54002002539983170502012-10-05T09:24:00.000-07:002012-10-05T09:27:13.271-07:00Choosy Moms...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQIztaAgyB5KolmsfB6-dhHvfedp-JnSO0C-jrXPbmGFz0_5N0OXnkLJ1L07HBlxYPBTkq91nvJWVx699fLN7qau2i0CdkOlobKqDmcb8BGtSXOxJgfJ2-P9ke4MBERZItREnyjoZKWkQ/s1600/pb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="180" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQIztaAgyB5KolmsfB6-dhHvfedp-JnSO0C-jrXPbmGFz0_5N0OXnkLJ1L07HBlxYPBTkq91nvJWVx699fLN7qau2i0CdkOlobKqDmcb8BGtSXOxJgfJ2-P9ke4MBERZItREnyjoZKWkQ/s320/pb.JPG" /></a></div>
Can you think of a single problem that can't be solved with a spoon and some peanut butter? Ok....obesity is probably not best solved this way....or a nut allergy...or a spoon allergy...but you ge the point.
<p>Our baby is looking more like a little man each day. And he's acting more and more like a toddler.
<p>After an hour of simply following around the house cleaning up whatever messes he had made I (stupidly) decided to go check the mail. In our house this is a bad idea on many levels. Oeddie runs outside immediately and dashes for the neighbor's yard. Not wanting to haul Archer with me I close the door behind me and take off after Oed. This causes Archer to scream at the top of his lungs which causes Rexy to bark at the top of hers. So this time I get wise and lock Oeddie in the bedroom before opening the front door. I purposefully pick a time when Archer is playing in his room so that I can get in and out of the house quickly, without notice. Didn't work. He heard the door open and came in a full on sprint, only I didn't know this because I was outside getting the mail. So when I opened the door I opened it right in to him, taking him by surprise and causing him to fall backwards onto the rug. I scooped him up in an effort to show that mom was there to save the day (and forget that mom had just ruined it) but he wasn't having it. He threw his head backward and kicked me so hard in the chest I lost my breath and he proceeded to pound his fists on the ground while screaming which, of course, made Rexy bark from the living room and Oeddie bark and scratch at the door from the bedroom.
<p>I tried everything to calm him down and finally resorted to strapping him into his high chair and handing him a spoonful of Peanut Butter.
<p>Ahh the comforting silence of forgiveness.
<p>So, I've decided, this is how I'm going to settle all of my issues from here on out. How surprised will Ben be if, during our next argument, I stick a PB spoon in his mouth?
<p>I'll let you know.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-82487047336754919122012-10-05T09:11:00.001-07:002012-10-05T09:11:22.061-07:00Yes yes I know it's been nearly a year since my last post. Unacceptable, I know. But it's kind of hard to be motivated when I have no audience. I talk to myself often but I rarely write to myself and I don't really see the point. Sure I should do this so that I can look back at my life down the road and have a way to remember it. (Why do most of my posts on my blog already look like this?) Consider this my apology (self) and let us begin anew. Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-18037063487533085682011-11-20T20:15:00.001-08:002011-11-20T20:32:25.506-08:00ThumbsuckerDo you know what it's like to raise a thumbsucker? I'm asking this not as an amusing thought to ponder as I lead into an entertaining post, I'm literally asking if you know what it's like.<br /><br />It's an adventure.<br /><br />Mine is 15 lbs of adorable squishy fun with one very pink thumb.<br /><br />The books (damn the books) say I should let him have it. He's found his own self-soothing technique and there's not harm in letting him enjoy his digit(s) so long as I can get him to stop prior to his second set of teeth coming in. The nurses (damn the nurses) at our Pediatrician's office say I should keep it away from him so as to avoid any possible "behavioral issues" it might cause. The internet (damn the internet) has mixed reviews.<br /><br />One one hand (no pun intended) his thumb seems to make him happy and I ENJOY making him happy. On the other, he seems a bit obsessed and my normally talkative, kicky, punchy boy has become introverted and still. It's as if it's impossible to suck his thumb and do anything else at the same time- he is a man after all.<br /><br />So I chose to listen to the nurses (damn) and try to keep it away from him. This requires replacement therapy (thus causing binky dependence and is this any better?) OR distraction techniques (how many times can you put a rattle in his hand or change our activity before he just gets angry?...about three) OR punishment tactics in the form of a glove (which the other hand can quickly pull off.)<br /><br />I try each and every one of these things an average of about 1,000 times a day and still he manages to get his thumb from time to time. <br /><br />Is this really such a bad thing? Ben and I were both thumbsuckers and we turned out relatively ok. Should I just let him have it? I've tried that too, and then I just begin to stress that his language and physical growth will suffer. And do you want to know the most distressing part? It's his LEFT thumb!!!<br /><br />Aaahhhh well. The damned internet tells me the last five presidents were leftys. I wonder if they sucked their thumbs?Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-22682943759461519062011-11-20T20:10:00.000-08:002011-11-20T20:15:17.909-08:00Survival of the fittestAny mom who fits into single digit sizes within 6 months of having a baby should be shot. Granted I'll Never fit into single digit sizes (even at my thinnest after major lipo and a nasty anorexic phase I was still a solid 10...ahem...12.) AND granted I lost all of my baby weight PLUS about 30 lbs within 8 weeks of having Archer. But even with these two facts firmly in place, I get irritated with post-prego-skinny.<br /><br />Skinny bitches in general get on my nerves. A woman isn't a woman without a few curves.<br /><br />I should be a rapper.<br /><br /><br />Where was I? Oh yeah....on my way to the kitchen for another cookie.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-36738039809576874192011-09-01T15:59:00.001-07:002011-09-19T07:03:06.188-07:00BothersomeMy husband tells me I need to keep a journal. I can't be bothered. I decided, instead, to update my blog. I realize I can't be bothered.<br /><br />But then I remember that I just had a baby and that I may want to remember the experience of it all and I guess I can, in fact, be bothered.<br /><br />So here I am.<br /><br />Boom!Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-7564020923299415342011-07-25T08:56:00.000-07:002011-07-25T09:10:44.374-07:00This is the place!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSqDg8LA2TGeDwm3mJbAfaFgqgo0sebr8UhzErVa0ZFsy3PusloYa4KoFNL2jt_CmvqlIhZR7pyfA8HHL733SOZO2Y9zIy-uZCdDN36-qr6Gb884WvLU6ihIc8OODzo6ZFIcBfdG7E99T/s1600/Pioneer+Trek+2005-0095.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOSqDg8LA2TGeDwm3mJbAfaFgqgo0sebr8UhzErVa0ZFsy3PusloYa4KoFNL2jt_CmvqlIhZR7pyfA8HHL733SOZO2Y9zIy-uZCdDN36-qr6Gb884WvLU6ihIc8OODzo6ZFIcBfdG7E99T/s320/Pioneer+Trek+2005-0095.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633323034682202498" /></a><br />It's the 25th of July. That means nothing to me really other than I have to take detours to get to work since the regular roads are closed for the parade. I see NO reason to have a parade on the 25h of July either but Utah feels differently.<br /><br />Surely those pioneers that settled this "great" state all those years ago didn't look into the future and say, "Boy, I do hope that someday they'll close all of the main roads in each town to make room for homemade floats covered in children and adults alike dressed in what they think is pioneer attire. Sure the JCPenny brand floral print dresses and Reebok tennis shoes are a little more modern( the pioneer's term not mine) than we actually wore but it's the thought that counts."<br /><br />Well, pioneers, here you have it....an hour of awkward people staring at awkward people on trailers and horses all to remember YOU!!!! Don't you feel lucky?<br /><br />Then again, most people in Utah have today off. And if paying homage to the pioneers means I can take another day at home with my man and my dogs than give me a denim skirt and a head scarf and I will pull that damned handcart all the way home !Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-64541013724607018342010-02-10T14:47:00.000-08:002010-02-10T14:50:34.824-08:0010 random things about me...I realize that my life is filled with the particular type of oddities that one can only hope to read about in the pages of Sedaris or Burroughs. I also know that my writing style is no where near ready to handle such a task.<br /> <br />So....I think I'll stick to rarely blogging and will likely lose the fun memories with the rest of my long-term (read: anything more than an hour ago) memory.<br /><br /><br />1. In one week I managed to get my second round of IVF cancelled, Ben was laid off of one of his jobs, one of the toilets broke, the garage door broke trapping our cars inside for a day until someone could come fix it, my breaks on my car went out, my windshield cracked and needs to be replaced, the dishwasher caught itself on fire, and I <br /><br />2. I didn’t even KNOW a dishwasher could catch on fire while on use. Isn’t it full of WATER? <br /><br />3. I sometimes work as the security guard for my building on evenings when non-company events are planned here. I am not armed with a weapon or a skill. I would simply have to nag the intruders to death. Ben thinks I could do it.<br /><br />4. If you mix up the "to and from" addresses on a letter it'll come back to you instead of going to your intended recipient. This seems like a "no brainer" but I've managed to do it....twice.<br /><br /><br />5. I didn’t like Pocohontas or Dances with Wolves. I also didn’t like the Smurfs. Ergo I will not be watching Avatar….ever.<br /><br />6. I take an orange to work each day so that my health conscious husband will see me attempting something personally health conscious. As a result I now have a mountain of oranges on my desk.<br /><br />7. Sometimes I like to respond to full office emails by writing a two or three word response followed by a smiley face JUST because another woman in my office does the same thing and I don't think she should be the only one allowed to be irritating.<br /><br />8. I've learned not to eat anything out of the deli counter at Maceys. That particular shade of pink can not be found anywhere in nature but especially not found in natural foods.<br /><br />9. I drank a small shot of apple cider vinegar the other night after dinner to settle my acid reflux but my stomach apparently protested the decision because I immediately began projectile vomiting pork loin and asaparagus into the garbarator. Ben was laughing which made me laugh which pissed off my stomach even more and before I knew it my stomach was empty and my reflux was worse. Damn A.C.V.<br /><br />10. I talk to myself in the shower and don't realize it until my husband asks me if I had been singing in there. "Yes....yes I was....Alanis Morisette..."Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-1134184983979197242009-12-07T15:03:00.000-08:002010-02-10T14:47:52.948-08:0010 random thoughts about life...While I still have a few things fresh on my mind....<br /><br /><br />1. White Christmas trees don't work in a beige room with beige walls and beige carpets. It just looks dirty. If, by some familial circumstance, you're obligated to keep said white tree up, do not resort to decorating with with purple and blue glittery tulips purchased for 12 cents a piece at last year's "after-Christmas" sale. They will look like cheap tacky (yet glittery) blue and purple vaginas. No matter how you look at it this is NOT an appropriate Christmas theme.<br /><br />2. Just because a movie has the word "Good" in the title that doesn't mean that it is.<br /><br />3. The score and libretto for "The Sound of Music" has been sitting on my desk for a week now and everytime I see it I think it says "Book written by Russel Crowe." I can't help imagining what a different show that would have been. Capt'n Von Trapp could have been a chubby greasy haired kiwi with autistic (albeit gladiator-like) tendancies. Maria would have been bored in a matter of minutes.<br /><br />4. YES I KNOW it's a real story but do you think Russell Crowe really would have cared?<br /><br />5. Wearing Sketcher's "Shape Ups" may increase the workout to my butt and thighs but it also makes me feel like I'm one of those kids with one leg longer than the others so I have to wear one regular shiny shoe and one thicker and much less attractive shoe. Except in this case I wear them on both feet so it's more like both of my legs are shorter than the other. Yeah.<br /><br />6.People will give up their Friday nights to watch an old Babs Streisand flick but not their Saturday nights.<br /><br /><br />7. Southwestern fabric brightens everyone's day. <br /><br />8. Claning out the office fridge should only be done on a Friday when the building will be vacant for a weekend and the place can be aired out. Children could die from office kitchen fumes.<br /><br />9. If you're driving down the freeway in the car-pool lane and your spouse is laying in the back of the car with the dogs, people may think you are driving alone. They are, infact, incorrect.<br /><br />10. It's ok to lie if your bosses support the habit.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-26783612461727787732009-10-21T15:34:00.000-07:002009-10-21T15:40:13.229-07:00Mmmmm fruit kebabs...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKGFVy0hT27hHOeGhjh-pJgFROzp8sr2R4LL0oUOr_h8Jf4pEXi5tfyymbl_nEKigUozn_kvXqaI3dhBYg_TKg4cs9p4O-rsOBKtCv09x7rlEmcLESG9lyzabAn5lcSg_PIGr9LdpYv8F-/s1600-h/Wedding+2+046.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395186643864344050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKGFVy0hT27hHOeGhjh-pJgFROzp8sr2R4LL0oUOr_h8Jf4pEXi5tfyymbl_nEKigUozn_kvXqaI3dhBYg_TKg4cs9p4O-rsOBKtCv09x7rlEmcLESG9lyzabAn5lcSg_PIGr9LdpYv8F-/s200/Wedding+2+046.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Hey I realize that I'm writing (talking) to myself here because NOBODY knows I even have a blog, but I figure maybe one day I'll do something interesting enough to blog about.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>And then I'll embellish the story until it's interesting enough to Write about.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>And then I'll embellish it even more.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>In doing so, I hope to gain just one reader. I hope it's a bored cubicle monkey doing a random search for the word "epicurious."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I don't intend to be writing about food or cooking or the curious delights there in, mind you, I just plan to include the word in this blog and hopefully someone comes across it.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Epicurous.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There I've done it.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Bring it on fate...I'm ready for a reader!</div>Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-26542324350902136362009-06-09T14:59:00.000-07:002009-10-21T15:51:49.751-07:00Benvenido a Miami<div>Have you ever thought about visiting the Bahamas? I have. In fact, I've thought about it quite a lot lately. I've thought about it so much, in fact, that I've just booked two round-trip non-refundable tickets to Miami.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>W T F ?</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Have I MET myself? Have I SEEN my greenish-shade-of-opaque-white skin that should NOT be touched by the sun's fertile rays? Have I remembered the fact that I haven't owned a bathing suit since the age of 12 (for VERY good reasons)?</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>And have I ignored these questions and gone ahead and booked the flights to Miami?</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Hells yes.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Damn you Will Smith, if you hadn't made your party song so much like a "call to arms" maybe I would have thought through it a little bit before booking a vacation that requires a few things that I Don't have.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Miami Beach Body</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Swimming Suit</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Tannable skin</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Watersport mentality</div><br /><br /><br /><div>Affection for the outdoors</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Instead, my suitcase will be filled with turtle neck sweaters, long pants, SPF 7O+ sunscreen, an old lady hat, an umbrella, a bottle of aloe, a bottle of excederine, and possibly a few phone numbers to the local paramedics.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I'm so lucky that my husband forgives me for my craziness LONG before it presents itself.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Why not?.....He gets a trip to the Bahamas!</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKA2EKETDDAGY7Q8VH8-i349TA2E99kGzGj4fugPAPFax7gfZxKOiqQF0FxxUYr44h6GC7pBYyqBMV1r_skLKEOzbbyyVrVAW1qiQQyDgc0w7gHOWKzTErq5yoTPrQKL-Zn1DlanvvToM/s1600-h/02aug13-i-suck-sunburn.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395189253598512690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKA2EKETDDAGY7Q8VH8-i349TA2E99kGzGj4fugPAPFax7gfZxKOiqQF0FxxUYr44h6GC7pBYyqBMV1r_skLKEOzbbyyVrVAW1qiQQyDgc0w7gHOWKzTErq5yoTPrQKL-Zn1DlanvvToM/s200/02aug13-i-suck-sunburn.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div> This was me on a particularly masculine day.</div><br /><div></div>Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-36798695270169812442009-05-05T15:27:00.000-07:002009-05-05T15:33:17.667-07:00Rough Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKow1HL-ziTIQqXsp3JH5g3AxPOQlG5XyMZz8BOy1plJC18sZUvmg-jKpl56JGFekvNe7JF1trpBcL-QlSykQWCaNdm8XQDJachIpmIYq2f8sRkQyhYVx8zWnrxqvS4WcQsevgVR-TIpf/s1600-h/back.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332471458667026658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKow1HL-ziTIQqXsp3JH5g3AxPOQlG5XyMZz8BOy1plJC18sZUvmg-jKpl56JGFekvNe7JF1trpBcL-QlSykQWCaNdm8XQDJachIpmIYq2f8sRkQyhYVx8zWnrxqvS4WcQsevgVR-TIpf/s200/back.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Some days at the Walmart </div><br /><div>are classier than others.</div><br /><div>Today my back hurt</div><br /><div>so I took refuge</div><br /><div>on a lonely bench</div><br /><div>by a Mexican.</div><br /><div>My nose started to bleed.</div><br /><div>So as I sat there</div><br /><div>moaning in pain</div><br /><div>with my head held back</div><br /><div>and blood in my throat</div><br /><div>next to a Mexican</div><br /><div>I found myself thinking</div><br /><div>I should avoid the Walmart.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And that was that.</div>Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-31480088516232775542009-02-17T14:02:00.000-08:002009-06-09T14:59:01.717-07:00The Joys of MaidonhoodI feel like hell.<br /><br /><br /><br />It's snowing outside in massive amounts and truthfully the dreary gloom usually appeals to my inner goth but for some reason today it just makes me cold.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And then hot.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And then cold again. Damned viscious cycle.<br /><br /><br /><br />If I didn't know better I'd think I was pregnant. Or going through menapause. Or becoming a man. Considering the liklihood of any of these three happening is slim-to-none, I don't think I'll panic yet.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-26310594457071804122009-02-16T18:10:00.000-08:002009-10-21T15:58:52.245-07:00Fattie fattie two by fourHave you ever had a dog that was too fat to jump on the bed? We do.<br /><br />When she jumps it's as if she has no concept of height or effort necessary and instead she smacks into the sideboard shoulders first and looks at us as if we've done this to her on purpose.<br /><br />We have not.<br /><br /><br />She's on diet food and limited to small portions. But the other dog (the gay boy) often forgets that he has to eat to live and in his absentmindedness he becomes an enabler, allowing her to eat herself to miserable extent.<br /><br />I find it humorous. And sad. <br /><br />But when she tires walking from the kitchen to living room and has to pause (coochie to carpet) to take a breather, I'm more amused than sad.<br /><br />Does this make me a bad mother?<br /><br />Sometimes I feed her the dog food one piece at a time JUST to make sure she has it in her mouth long enough to chew it, thus prolonging digestion, or so I've told myself.<br /><br />There must be something else we can do for her. <br /><br /><br />Is there a Jenny Craig for dogs? Weight watchers? Nutrisystems? <br /><br />I'll hire Richard Simmons.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-84802061118360158282009-02-16T17:38:00.000-08:002009-02-16T18:04:54.392-08:00Necessary Ratings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0nhi1HeIVFwo7cdj0aUPVqArttU6uqkeZJDNVPnwpk0B_ZPlTJP5Cib8XSphUgu49iFuPVwXT16PFxjfem97ljB8QTAxy3yHKtf2egWJ-QT3yORqNA5EJrP6KKaFZl1C-OoS1UI3FekL/s1600-h/pg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 93px; height: 123px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0nhi1HeIVFwo7cdj0aUPVqArttU6uqkeZJDNVPnwpk0B_ZPlTJP5Cib8XSphUgu49iFuPVwXT16PFxjfem97ljB8QTAxy3yHKtf2egWJ-QT3yORqNA5EJrP6KKaFZl1C-OoS1UI3FekL/s200/pg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303580450793071890" border="0" /></a><br />Deep down I've always known I was a bandwagon girl.<br /><br />Posting only to an unknown and nearly foreign blog in attempts to protect myself from public scrutiny has grown old. I guess you could say I long for the types of attention even my poorly written acquaintances get. So here I am...jumping on board and attempting a PG 13 version of that thing I do best...<br /><br />Mind speaking.<br /><br />Here's hoping the result is readable.<br /><br />I give no guarantees.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-10769872689907252152008-07-20T10:00:00.000-07:002010-09-22T10:02:20.526-07:00Ought EightThere are quite a few things I've learned from UFOC Summer of 08. . . but I'm pretty sure that not many of them have to do with Opera. <br /><br /> <br />Peacock feathers shouldn't be mailed in a poster tube. They come out looking like a more colorful version of "Flock of Seagulls." Birds scare me and yet I've just mentioned two.<br /><br /> <br />If my postage options are old man and chair OR hornet and goat and the decision plagues me for more than one minute, my time is not well spent. The ONLY person who'll notice is me And to make matters worse the damned pearl is going to fall off anyway.<br /><br /> <br />Even if I lock the puppies in the pink room in the basement to try to sleep past 6 am, I wake at 6:01. The deamons inside, it seems, are louder than deamon dogs.<br /><br /> <br />Stepping into a show at the last minute requires the following actions in order: outright refusal….crying…too many people crammed into a piano room for embarrassed singing…kingly kindness…more crying…guilt trips…disapproval from fellow cast members….tears….acceptance. And MUCH further down the line…faint applause.<br /><br /> <br />As has always been the case with me, "I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at." But understand, dear sirs, that leaving it there may cause you to grieve just as much as I. <br /><br /> <br /><br />I can no longer go to Pines parties. The things that used to draw me there have been poured out or poured upon and this pirate is no longer prepared to don patch, toga, or prom dress without feeling like she's taken a step down. High and Mighty? Nah. Just old.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Tricky things get sticky when I'm suddenly the boss. My stolen ruse of smearing the office with pitch may have worked brilliantly if I weren't the one to have gotten stuck.<br /><br /> <br />Choosing to wear a white wedding dress comes as a surprise to some of my less than doting admirers.<br /><br /> <br />Painting a bathroom yellow is a bad idea that should have registered long before the paint dried. Painting it blue makes me want fishes on the wall and, surprisingly, I've matured past the age of four. Painting it any other color has yet to cross my cluttered mind.<br /><br /> <br />Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer is a flawed idea. Why would I want my enemies closer when the problem is wanting my friends?<br /><br /> <br />One can never have too many spice racks.<br /><br /> <br />Running a season, planning a wedding, buying and fixing a house all at the same time may SOUND like a fun summer but what I wouldn't give for a few days off.<br /><br /> <br />The few in this world who love me keep the earth on its axis and me on mine.<br /><br /> <br />"Though this be madness, yet there is method in it."Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-54834768140094633602007-09-26T10:02:00.000-07:002010-09-22T10:04:20.007-07:00He Said, She Said...He Said...<br /><br />78 days, 9 hours, 5 minutes and 6 seconds<br />Or 2 months, 16 days, 9 hours, 5 minutes, 6 seconds<br />6,771,906 seconds <br />112,865 minutes <br />1881 hours <br />11 weeks <br /><br />Included in that time is;<br /><br />The few seconds it took for us to meet outside a theatre in Logan on 7/7/7, and for me to act completely nervous and awkward, (otherwise known as typical Ben to those who know me well).<br /><br />The single weekend it took for me to wear a dress to impress a girl at a birthday party, and to finish falling in love with someone I only just met that day. (Don't ask me how wearing a dress impresses a girl)<br /><br />The weeks that followed that proved to me that she is everything I ever wanted.<br /><br />The excruciatingly long time it took for me to finally get down to meet her parents and ask her father, (who by the way is an avid hunter), for permission to marry her. <br /><br />The most fun I have ever had on a road trip. (including the wild boar we ran over in the dessert) <br /><br />The time it took for me to ask her the question that I wanted to ask after only two weeks of knowing her. <br /><br />And most importantly the word Yes that followed.<br /><br />After approximately 78 days on September 23rd 2007 I am officially engaged to Cassandra Orr.<br /><br />I love you Cassandra, you mean more to me than anything in this world, I have loved you since we met, and I will always love you.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />She Said...<br /><br />An independent woman, I've always thought, was a necessary thing. A necessary thing for me that is. And in thinking this I was certain that I doomed myself to a fate of loneliness and ignorance of such. Who could possibly love a woman with such a loud mouth and slightly (understatement) overbearing personality?<br /><br /> <br />Turns out I know someone who can. He seems to think it's fun.<br /><br /> <br />It's strange how it feels as if I'm missing a part of me that is currently somewhere near Salt Lake. Surprisingly enough I' not referring to the several pounds of breast tissue I left in a HazMat receptacle at McKay Dee Hospital four short weeks ago (classy mention I know) but instead I speak of the 6'4" blond hair, blue eyed, perfectly chiseled masculine masterpiece of a man who has the power to melt me with a look, a kiss, a touch, and the ability to take my heart off my sleeve and hold it in his strong and capable hands. He takes care of me when I'm broken or sick, thinks I'm beautiful even when I'm swollen and scarred, constantly impresses me with his knowledge and ability to teach, looks great in everything from a tux to a dress (long story) to the real Levi jeans he wore on the ranch to meet my family, and always makes sure I know how much I am loved. <br /><br /> <br />I call him mine. <br /><br /><br />And as of this past Sunday night I also call him my fiancée. Yes people, the rumors are wonderfully true! I'm going to marry the man of my dreams and I can honestly say that beside him I make sense.<br /><br /> <br />Knowing that someday I'd amount to something big ( a great writer, great actress, great inspirer, great novice, great grandmother, etc.) I'd always focused my goals on doing things to get me there and usually that required solitary independence. And yet, in the past three days the only thing I seem to be accomplishing is the fact that I am a great emoter. I can quite magnificently emote.<br /><br /> <br />In fact it seems that I've been crying for days. Not tears of sorrow mind you but the kind that fill your eyes and sit there peacefully on your lids until you smile wide enough for them to race down your cheeks, the kind of tears that cover your contacts in such a thick layer of salt that you can't see to drive home, the kind of tears that multiply each time you even think a loving thought, the kind of tears that arrive only when you are wonderfully, surprisingly, and indescribably happy.<br /><br /><br />So here I sit atop my big squishy bed alone (mind the dog), covered in tears (obviously), and not even attempting to wipe this giddy grin off my face as I switch my bedside lamp on and off repeatedly just so I can look at my newly acquired piece of jewelry in every light and I can't help thinking that it's wonderful being such an independent woman in love with an independent man who makes me the happiest woman on earth.<br /><br />So here we are: short courtship, long engagement, followed by the wedding of the year and the kind of life they write books about. In fact maybe someday I will.<br /><br /> <br />Benjamin Gordon Coulam I love you today, tomorrow, and everyday of the rest of our lives!Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-58582831480833998502007-04-06T10:04:00.000-07:002010-09-22T10:05:21.525-07:00You Call it Tomato, I call it A.D.D.I like to daydream. I do it not as a mental escapism to avoid my real everyday life (because Lord knows it is anything but mundane) but it's more of an opportunity to live out my Cancerean fantastical ways without having to give myself actual multiple personalities or sci-fi friends. I blame my mental torpor tendencies. I simply can't be bothered with maintaining focus for any lengthy amount of time, that requires the kind of effort I'm just not willing to put forth.<br /><br />Today while sitting in on some auditions with my boss I drifted. Somewhere between Popagana's suicide and the third Figeroan Count I ended up at "Sam's Club."<br /><br />"We need more oil for the popcorn machine," I thought to myself, "I wonder if the ice cream maker is still on sale. <br /><br />Why do I care if it is, I bought one last week and what would I possibly do with two? <br /><br />Well what if someone you know has a sudden need to make gelato and yet they can't seem to find an affordable mixer and when they ask you for advice you have none to give simply because you didn't pay attention while you were at Sam's?"<br /><br />At this moment I become acutely aware that the conversation internally is about to send out an external signifier in the form of an "HOLD MY BABY" so I quickly snap back into reality.<br /><br />The notes I'd been scribbling (in attempt to look like I'm paying attention) read something like this…<br /><br />"Eyebrow acting is not really acting. Why is his face so red, I'm afraid he might explode. Help me I'm drifting….Sam's Club."<br /><br />I laughed out loud. Fortunately the singer thought I was digging his pig-latin version of a Little Mermaid song. I swear to God this happened people, I couldn't make this up.<br /><br />Focus Cassandra, this is business. But musical auditions have never been my bailiwick and the opera patois is quickly lulling me into rapid recidivism. <br /><br />See audience, even now I've stopped to admire my own ability to use three big words in a sentence. I then moved to a mental debate over whether I should have added the words "cogitate over" in place of "admire" in the previous sentence.<br /><br />I am a nut case. I should be medicated. I think I have to stop now. I need to go to Sam's Club.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-7096318524994168272007-03-04T10:05:00.000-08:002010-09-22T10:07:47.812-07:00Introducing the Dame...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikoxTAWYlKZS56mLGJWGPwV16i8LOMSqgsyTyH1ivJlupW6xWrul6GoK9irpPjuEgZITvudvJJRDarqrf6Kw2_Lr_TA_tLbcFkP_oirZIQRd22QImrVzznrifW8P68YovQ8AbqP23x3m3p/s1600/rexy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikoxTAWYlKZS56mLGJWGPwV16i8LOMSqgsyTyH1ivJlupW6xWrul6GoK9irpPjuEgZITvudvJJRDarqrf6Kw2_Lr_TA_tLbcFkP_oirZIQRd22QImrVzznrifW8P68YovQ8AbqP23x3m3p/s200/rexy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519785706360236770" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq1I6XvO14c6pIQ3HExdZht8Iu8EEqlj0hl6qZFlR7Xt3WzgOtE0Nmb99df4gfnW0SRv09xo6ZXmKSugK1MOtpLagj-ttvkBD0DsHTNrcvkuJkKpqmhJh_cS9LUPM_m-pJ8jY8WtbGRCE/s1600/rexy+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq1I6XvO14c6pIQ3HExdZht8Iu8EEqlj0hl6qZFlR7Xt3WzgOtE0Nmb99df4gfnW0SRv09xo6ZXmKSugK1MOtpLagj-ttvkBD0DsHTNrcvkuJkKpqmhJh_cS9LUPM_m-pJ8jY8WtbGRCE/s200/rexy+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519785697768790866" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs-VckhTarq8G-1ROAiAC4TThxWQxo1mimXXUulzQ8kWrsM_F1VGLj8y6xKaD0yxgyTAONFi4N0DKEuXTrKv5WLq2X2RxYBY_1w4JMLHGtHOKzplCRB4DJVCPHNIuamNf4SvTydtPTQuW/s1600/rexy+3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 196px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs-VckhTarq8G-1ROAiAC4TThxWQxo1mimXXUulzQ8kWrsM_F1VGLj8y6xKaD0yxgyTAONFi4N0DKEuXTrKv5WLq2X2RxYBY_1w4JMLHGtHOKzplCRB4DJVCPHNIuamNf4SvTydtPTQuW/s200/rexy+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519785695827865954" /></a><br />Yes yes I know I probably should have updated my adoring fans (joke) the moment I became a mother but as with all newborns, mine is quite a handful. My nights consist of about three hours of sleep divided by about 5 hours of trying to keep the baby entertained and out of trouble. The difference between my new baby and most is that rather than crying when she wants to wake up mommy, she just chews on my face.<br /><br />Introducing Dame Rexabelle Josephine McFierce., more commonly referred to as Sexy Rexy. Sure it may seem like a lot of name for such a little dog but believe me she owns it. She might be the only female I know who is more feisty than me.<br /><br />She was born January 1st in Oklahoma to a 3 lb Yorkie father and a 6 lb Papillion mother. And no I don't know exactly how that worked out but apparently her pops likes the larger ladies.<br /><br />When she was 7 weeks old (last week) she took her first plane trip to Utah arriving at the airport just a couple hours after I returned from my vacation to Seattle. <br /><br />We've been together a week and so far we've gone through quite a lot. She's had her first bath, first nail clipping, first vet appointments, first teeth brushing, and first shopping experiences this week. She has only barked twice, once when I was on my bed and she couldn't reach me and the other time when I took her plate away before she was done.<br /><br />She's quite the little melodramatic princess (like mother like daughter) and at 1 lb 6 oz you'd think she'd be timid and shy but she's far bossier than I could ever be. She hops around the place like a bunny, likes to chew on everything, loves visitors, and is the best cuddler. She's always the happiest curled up on my chest. Big surprise. <br /><br />If you get a chance, come visit us… we're both awfully cute. Ha ha.<br /><br />Here's the first pic I got of her. I asked the breeder to give me a size reference.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-86632657670027565242007-01-19T10:08:00.000-08:002010-09-22T10:09:23.479-07:00Lady Lessons<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWZkEI0G8n28208u_SsH5kUhY5hN6C3t59htvtUP8tSyiqobLU7j-i2s3YqMd01Xxrw0CM9iIwYj18qRd2yXRpfA_t1gYZRC5MsdEuwWjbhx6Zh5eppG6J-qm_fK_XL2pYsrl-0ai-5eK/s1600/lady.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWZkEI0G8n28208u_SsH5kUhY5hN6C3t59htvtUP8tSyiqobLU7j-i2s3YqMd01Xxrw0CM9iIwYj18qRd2yXRpfA_t1gYZRC5MsdEuwWjbhx6Zh5eppG6J-qm_fK_XL2pYsrl-0ai-5eK/s200/lady.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519786076689521282" /></a><br />My second favorite Christmas gift this year was a little pink book with helpful hints such as "A lady knows when it's appropriate to eat the garnish or drink through a straw." As well as, "A lady always wears clean and fresh underwear," and, " A lady doesn't touch other people's children unless invited to do so." <br /><br />I admit to not being the author's inspiration, I know nothing about being a "lady." <br /><br />My youth was spent bouncing back and forth between ballet and tennis lessons, my adolescence consisted of sports jerseys, football statistics, and life on the farm, and young adulthood meant learning that it wasn't necessary to physically harm all of the boys in my life and my male torment took on another motive entirely. <br /><br />Turning 18 brought about the desire to lose my childhood nickname along with my uni-brow and who knew that "one becoming two" was all that was necessary to birth my "feminine mystique." All mystery aside, I was still a work in progress. <br /><br />I had gone from girl, to brute, to woman and no etiquette classes on the planet were going to put me through phase "Lady." <br /><br />Years later, after trials and errors and extraordinary life experiences I'm quite capable of blending into polite society. My conversations can be intelligent, my table manners are perfectly polite, and no one can rock a pair of stilettos quite like I can and yet I'm still certain that "The Contemporary Guide to Common Courtesy" was not written about me. <br /><br />I've been wearing the same fake eyelashes for two days. <br /><br />I often refer to my apartment as "ghetto." <br /><br />I'm not certain I can remember my real hair color. Brown-ish? <br /><br />My vocabulary could make a sailor blush. <br /><br />I have an irrational fear of mediocrity. And clowns. <br /><br />I'm currently wearing white and it is well after Labor Day. <br /><br />Sometimes garnish confuses me. <br /><br />According to the book, should the Pope, a Prince, or the President show up I will most certainly be ill prepared.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-14418684393530374832006-11-06T10:09:00.000-08:002010-09-22T10:10:30.271-07:00I had a dream...My dreams lately have been rather …shall we say….VIVID?<br /> <br />First round usually involves some faceless fecund couple popping out lethargic little ones like they had nothing better to do than procreate. When I'm lucky, I'm holding the hand of the moaning mother while the crisply dressed doctors sing to her in a language not my own. When I'm not lucky, I'm doing the pushing.<br /> <br />In the dream this task seems to me menial and of no great importance. It's as if I've run out of things to do in the office so in order to placate my bothersome boss I birth a blank faced baby into the hands of two imperturbably unsmiling male nurses.<br /> <br />The second dream option involves taking tea with Ibsen. Or Ionesco. Or some other random playwright that I don't recognize by face but know by aire of reputation. Our sandwiches have no crusts and my obviously gauche tendencies are impressing no one. <br /> <br />I break into an elaborate (albeit ersatz) version of something presumably Poe hoping that my decision to entertain and not ironize my tea guest is the correct choice to make. My date remains unmoved.<br /> <br />The third dream is obviously a dream of can-can dancers performing upside down not to adulterate their audiences by showing their skivvies but to entrance them with the sea of colorful ruffled skirts waving to and fro in a vibrant fury. <br /><br />The sounds are muffled upbeat French cabaret and everything seems to be moving at half speed. This is by far my favorite of the dreams maybe because it never involves me.<br /><br />The most important thing to note in each of these dreams is that at some point just after the denouement someone completely unrelated to the dream steps in, removes the hat or headpiece that one of the main characters is wearing and disappears.<br /> <br />Now tell me dear readers. What am I to make of all of this? Even my most detailed of dream translation books don't have an answer for me.<br /><br /> <br />Perhaps my usually plentiful pool of good dream material is daring to desiccate. Maybe my muse is in mourning. Or possibly I just have a fetish for strangers stealing hats.<br /><br />I'm at a loss.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-48870380132187511142006-09-25T09:32:00.000-07:002010-09-22T09:32:46.784-07:00Oi VeyNever fear my noble readers (all two of you.)I shall return soon and believe me I have a LOT to say. Until then, give the new Hot Chip album a listen. It makes me want to shake it. Yeah.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-42642526002244813072006-09-11T09:30:00.000-07:002010-09-22T09:32:03.322-07:00Bruja Ha.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOFdHGPEWtfD4TtFRSrXOZkJGgG6CkCsBiq1Fxy902yN91CUjWm4mH8wgOEz4WvbYX3XO1ZyR-UH7JvrZnvX1qGvrwpolkVkIQiOLo4con-E6GezTTNUcUPsLFSVxU2ucVErSUIMVFXTX/s1600/Bruja.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOFdHGPEWtfD4TtFRSrXOZkJGgG6CkCsBiq1Fxy902yN91CUjWm4mH8wgOEz4WvbYX3XO1ZyR-UH7JvrZnvX1qGvrwpolkVkIQiOLo4con-E6GezTTNUcUPsLFSVxU2ucVErSUIMVFXTX/s200/Bruja.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519776501915854674" /></a><br />Could you, in good conscience, pay 4.5 € to go to a witch museum when you wouldn´t even shell out a measely two to going inside the famous Segovia Catedral? I sure could. And I did. But first...<br /><br />Aqueduct: Friggin awesome. And yes I just said friggin. Built hundreds of years ago by the Romans, Spanish lore speaks of a deal with the devil that nearly took away the soul of a child. God of course brought out the sun early and sent the devil home one brick short of finishing the grand spectacle of an aqueduct. Seriously people, this is impressive, and not a drop of mortar was used. (See pics on my pics link)<br /><br />Catedral: Well...the outside was lovely. And so was the wedding party issuing from it. But what are those things on their heads?<br /><br />Alcazar: This was W. Disney´s inspiration for Sleeping Beauty´s castle and oh what castle it is. Now how to the school of artillery it is filled with cannons and weapons and armor. From the tower you get breathtaking views of the city.<br /><br />Oy I sound like a guidebook. And next on the path...<br /><br />The Brujeria - known by those of us who speak English as the witch museum.<br /><br />Inside I found heads of vampires and blood bathing vixens, and dead faires and gnomes, and weapons of torture, and weapons of pleasure, and weapons of torturous pleasure, and every ingredient you could possibly imagine to put in a magic spell.<br /><br />The witches I know and love from the Pacific Northwest think I too am a witch. Yet no where in my house will you find human remains in a jar, heads of pixies on a stick, chairs with spikes and leather wristbands, small boxes filled with erotic toys and potions.<br /><br />Oh...um....ok well you will not find MOST of these within my house.<br /><br />No no I am not a witch.<br /><br />(lots of strange pics on my pics link)Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-66133426966622857992006-09-11T09:29:00.000-07:002010-09-22T09:30:53.272-07:00Mercedes Y Carlota on the town!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uP9oO1LI-PMErhWXQ2JiXan9w58BPKCszu_07fB8oPXvmr8XDyz3X6gbpXLwQW-YznmrONTVA2ucjk9c5-Hkr2_KkPgqw4UCaTJAa4t34ZYdmf6b0WRQMD08DKgTomRURRgOEjU-ojAu/s1600/car.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uP9oO1LI-PMErhWXQ2JiXan9w58BPKCszu_07fB8oPXvmr8XDyz3X6gbpXLwQW-YznmrONTVA2ucjk9c5-Hkr2_KkPgqw4UCaTJAa4t34ZYdmf6b0WRQMD08DKgTomRURRgOEjU-ojAu/s200/car.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519776220872538450" /></a><br />My new Spanish name is Mercedes. Accept it and love it. I often go out with a blonde Florida chica whom shall now we known as Carlota. And every day here, I´ve decided, should be an experience and I should try something that I have not yet tried before, this is how lessons are learned right? <br /><br />Well a couple days I ago I learned two very important lessons: (1) Mexican restaurants are kitchy cheaters and can not be trusted and (2) If you happen upon a he/she/it talking to his/her/itself, it´s best just to stop and stare and take pictures.<br /><br />Story number one takes place in a lovely Mexican restaurant Carlota and I happened across while wasting time waiting for our napping directors to return to work. In theory this was a good idea as we´ve been craving spice, in actuality, it was good for not much more than a laugh.<br /><br />From the ceiling hung a full sized VW bug and the seats at the tables were actual car seats torn from who knows where, the menues were on wheels. Photo op, photo op, photo op. We ordered quesidillas and chicken flautas. The woman warned us that it might not be much food (I think that´s what she said) but we didn´t listen.<br /><br />She went to a little glass kiosk in the wall and pulled out the smallest tortilla I´ve seen in my life, put a piece of cheese and a piece of onion in it and fried it. We got two huge plates and enough food to feed an anorexic doll. Carlota literally licked her plate clean hoping to get every last drop. I laughed and took pictures (all the while crying inside from my lack of fulfillment.) Damned Spanish Mexicans and their curious ways.<br /><br /><br />Post "lunch" we headed toward Chueca in search of real food when Carlota discovered a gem in the distance. A man/woman/thing sat across the square talking to his/her/its foot. We tried not to stare at first but soon it was yelling at its right foot in a very animated manor. We were too far away to hear so we supplied our own dialogue,<br /><br />"You´ve been a very naughty foot. You make me angry foot. Bad bad foot."<br /><br />Then it would turn nice<br /><br />"Oh my sweet foot, how I love thee. You make me so happy foot. You are my favorite foot. I would go nowhere without you."<br /><br />Then, as if it were simply playing good cop AND bad cop with its foot, it would begin to get angry again,<br /><br />"Why do you never listen foot? See how the other foot just sits there like a good foot should. Bad bad foot."<br /><br />Fists were shaking, nostrils were flared, this was OBVIOUSLY a very bad foot.<br /><br />By now we were crying we were laughing so hard and every person who passed by would do a double take at the foot and IT. I turned my back for one moment and when I turned aroud it had put its shoes on and donned a large black glove and cane which it was now waving around dangerously. We tried to get closer and it took off. We think it was a woman. A woman with a very bad foot. <br /><br />I´m certainly grateful for obedient extremities. Ah yes, lessons learned.Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-4282842363546932512006-09-06T09:26:00.000-07:002010-09-22T09:29:07.907-07:00C is for Canon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXEEXxkasSggsfvI6DjIzhlYluXswT3QZ4S45-5VvtOCR8DldZwmc1aE3YM6mFrQ0tHffIro3N4Vs8AHHsSrocu3leATFq75TKU8vfCl_mWn-vfVqyMkqJO_BjljCeTZf-bFtXsiBrF8E/s1600/Canon.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXEEXxkasSggsfvI6DjIzhlYluXswT3QZ4S45-5VvtOCR8DldZwmc1aE3YM6mFrQ0tHffIro3N4Vs8AHHsSrocu3leATFq75TKU8vfCl_mWn-vfVqyMkqJO_BjljCeTZf-bFtXsiBrF8E/s200/Canon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519775757274771634" /></a><br />Yes yes I´m AWARE I have been neglecting my blog. But you see I´ve been off exploring, and socializing, and doing very important things such as licking cannons.<br /><br />You wouldn´t want me to miss out on that now would you?Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294534730449036229.post-43957714939698601692006-09-05T09:25:00.000-07:002010-09-22T09:26:49.523-07:00Method of Elenchos<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWouhCgkTh84TjGihBrcl5yR7W7eG-ysD3zA7ZHG_dHaCc-v7Z5f9pMPoIfTg5ORZvcPd9zs4bb1Y4zl_Y-rFtlchkzewVu6z96hKd_QTax1sNFlENQH8dUXrgFcix-ff9sjKRHJ9CI1Ym/s1600/Elenchos.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWouhCgkTh84TjGihBrcl5yR7W7eG-ysD3zA7ZHG_dHaCc-v7Z5f9pMPoIfTg5ORZvcPd9zs4bb1Y4zl_Y-rFtlchkzewVu6z96hKd_QTax1sNFlENQH8dUXrgFcix-ff9sjKRHJ9CI1Ym/s200/Elenchos.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519775160685689506" /></a><br />I too believe that wisdom is limited to an awareness of my own ignorance.<br /><br />A woman fell in front of me in the street last night while walking her dog. In rushing to help her up I was certain the Gods of good deeds would bless me with the words to say, "let me help you, are you allright?" in Spanish. Instead, all that came to me was "quinentos veintidos million cuatro cien cincuenta y tres mil cien doce" (which I think means 522,453,112) and "son las seis menos diez pasadas" (it´s just past 10 to 6 pm.)<br /><br />I´m convinced my Spanish classes are not helpful at all. <br /><br />I take class in a room called Socrates. And wasn´t he condemned for impiety and corruption of youth thus causing him to choose suicide over exhile clamining that running away would bring dishonor upon himself and Athens and thus death was the better option? Super.<br /><br />I often zone out in class and focus in on one of the many drawings of Socrates and his work. Soon I´m answering the questions in my head with other questions and enjoying my use of his own dialectic method of inquiry and imagining his studies with Diotima. I too would like to study love.<br /><br />Considering the fact that the last thing I think of before bed and the first thing I think of when I rise is not from Spain at all but in fact it´s something (or someone) I´ve left behind in the states, I suppose that love IS the main part of my studies.<br /><br />It certainly isn´t Spanish. <br /><br />I am fully aware of my own ignorance. I´d call it blissful but I have not yet truly achieved that which I truly desire. I suppose Socrates was right all along in finding the answer within the asking.<br /><br />What is it that I want?Cassandra Coulamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15595716225667731195noreply@blogger.com0