Archive for February, 2009

1 Comment

Enough with the Kate Spade already


2009
02.26

Posted in rant | 1 Comment »

Hello E-Bay.

We’ve been acquainted with one another for quite some time and even though nobody had ever gone to the trouble of formally introducing us, I felt like you kind of knew me. I mean, I liked the fact that I could visit you at any time – day or night – and you would be there for me.

When I wanted a place where I can buy my favorite running shoes for less than a gazillion dollars, you came through. When I needed a wetsuit that would keep me snuggly warm in the middle of kelp bed you totally delivered. When I was asked to shoot photos of jewelry and needed a macro lens you were all over it. In fact, so gratified was I by your ability to furnish me with running, photographic and swimming stuff that I developed a bit of a crush on you. I felt like we understood each other. You really “got” it when it came to my needs.

Therefore E-Bay, perhaps you can imagine my disappointment when I received an e-mail from you today that contained enticing images of products that not only do I have no interest in owning, but have an irrational aversion to.

Look at that list above. Running. Photography. Swimming. Is there anything in that list that suggests I’m interested in becoming some pain in the ass yuppie princess? Because that’s the impression I was left with when I received an e-mail in which you tried to draw my attention to the fact that you can sell me Kate Spade, Manolo Blahnik, diamond tennis bracelets, Steve Madden and cosmetics of a variety that I had no clue existed until I opened your e-mail.

I didn’t wear make-up at my own wedding. Save a few tubes of lipstick I don’t even own any. In fact, I think the closest I’ve come to wearing make-up was sometime during the Reagan administration when I snuck into my mom’s stash and fed her foundation to the family dog.

So why are you trying to sell me something I would never use? Why – in a million years – would you throw the term “Kate Spade” in my direction and expect a Pavlovian response from me – a woman who prefers a leap into the ocean over buying a purse that would do nothing but collect dust in her closet?

Also, what’s this business about the stiletto heels? I’m sorry E-Bay, but have you forgotten? I’m six feet tall. I already frighten most men and I certainly don’t need six inch heels to push their terror level to “orange”.

Since I’ve never been one to bitch without suggesting a solution, here’s mine: fire everyone. Hire people who know what they’re doing. Given the current economic climate and the fact that you’re in Silicon Valley it should be too hard. Just take 101 North to Cisco’s headquarters and work your way west toward Intel until you have a full staff of techie nerds. Then instruct them to stop sending me e-mails filled with crap I’ll never buy.

Really, it’s that easy.

1 Comment

Jack


2009
02.25

Posted in jack, photos | 1 Comment »

I have a husband, two kids, a quasi-SUV and house in the burbs. It had occurred to me that the only thing standing between me and utter Stepford wife-ism was a lack of “dog”. As in a-house-in-the-burbs-two-kids-and-a-dog.

Meet Jack.

Jack is a german shorthair pointer we picked up from a gsp rescue near Marysville. Jack is a somewhat odd animal. So far as we can tell he doesn’t bark, whine, whimper or growl. He does make an odd groaning noise when you rub his ears, a sound which usually precedes a graceless flop into your lap. He is socially inept. He loves people in general and kids in particular. He has a habit of walking right into the middle of whatever you are doing. He can, at times, behave like an over-caffeinated monkey. I am totally in love with him.

I wanted very badly to take photos of Jack but it turns out that Jack is terrified of my camera. My husband suggested that this might indicate that the dog had been beaten which, I am sure you will agree, is totally absurd. After all, I can’t think of a single person who would go about beating dogs with a $1,200 camera, can you? Well, maybe Warren Buffet or Bill Gates could afford to go about beating animals with pricey electronics, but neither men seem the type to do so.

Of course, shortly after Jack’s retreat in the face of my camera he cowered when I picked up the remote, my laptop, the playstation controllers and a clock radio.

“See?” I told my husband, “He hasn’t been beaten. He’s just a total luddite.”

Anyway, so what I wanted to say is this: I know I have a few runners that read because you e-mail me all the time and flatter me by asking my opinion about running-related things as if I actually know something about the sport. (I mean, wouldn’t you be surprised if at some point you showed up in Northern California and discovered first-hand that I was just another yahoo in Asics who executed what can only be described as a controlled fall for twelve miles?) But I will tell you this: if you are looking for a good running partner, get a gsp. These dogs can go for days. And when they aren’t going? They’re total couch potatoes. And they don’t shed. And, apparently the don’t bark either. And they’re pretty darned smart. And they can walk on water. And tutor you in math.

No Comments

RA


2009
02.20

Posted in mortuary school, school | No Comments »

Being in mortuary school means that you are frequently confronted with situations that make your family and friends put their head in their hands and mutter things like, ”Why can’t you just be normal and become an admin assistant? Or be like that bear guy who made the movie about grizzlies?”

Recently, my restorative arts class presented a problem unique to the funeral service major. I needed someone to pretend they were dead. Then, while they were laying around all un-lifelike I needed to take a bunch of photos of them. Then I needed to use said photos to reconstruct their lifeless likeness in wax, all the while convincing them that There Was Nothing Creepy At All About Any Of It.

Identifying an available pool of candidates has been difficult at best. I was lukewarm on picking a celebrity for reasons unclear to even myself. My brother the archaeologist seemed like a natural choice - as his occupation involves digging up dead people and has long since overcome the “ick” factor associated with death. But he lives too far away to make taking photos of him practical. And the though of recreating his viking beard gives me a headache. Also, he’s a goofy goober.

My sisters both looked at me and backed away slowly after the request had been made.

My husband crossed himself and then did some weird thing with his hands to ward off the evil eye.

The neighbors ran into their house, chased me off with a broom and installed new locks on their doors before arming themselves with pitchforks and organizing a torch light parade to my door.

Ok, not really.

Still, picking someone who would be comfortable going along with this project was pretty difficult. Then I remember my friend Cindy. Cindy, the doctor. Cindy, who has a fascination with the coroner’s office. Cindy who has spent a ton of time around cadavers and – in her work with AIDS patients – people on the verge of cadaverhood.

So I asked Cindy if she’d mind being used for my project and she agreed a little too enthusiastically. Now it was my turn to be weirded out.

At any rate, a couple of my classmates and I had the idea that we should document our progress in photos. Therefore, if you’ve ever been interested in how a group of people whose modeling skills barely qualify them to make ashtrays develop the skills necessary to rebuild a human head, stay tuned.

No Comments

California wine country


2009
02.16

Posted in life in california, ocean, photos, vacation | No Comments »

There are times – usually twelve to eighteen hours out of the day – when I just want the hell out of California. Because – lack of snow and gorgeous weather notwithstanding - living here means spending an inordinate amount of time around people who are so busy clapping themselves on the back for being open-minded that they have failed to recognize Gavin Newsom for the self-aggrandizing douche bag that he is. Or who rail against wealthy people and large corporations even as they simultaneously covet the goods proffered by both.

Then there are times when the benefits of living here come very, very, very close to eclipsing the myopic din of blood oaths against capitalism. 

Yes, I’m talking about the benefits of living in wine country, where you can almost get drunk enough to make hippies tolerable. Yes, I have photos. Yes, I am hard up for material for a post. 

Wall with grapevines trailing up it.

Prickly pear and nopales cactus.

Winery door. 

Mission San Francisco Solano.

Holy water font at Mission San Francisco Solano.

Limantour beach.

Running on the beach.

No Comments

Reader discretion is required…


2009
02.06

Posted in blogging, death & dying, mortuary school, school | No Comments »

When I first started this blog I had intended it to be about my exerience studying to be a mortician in the funeral services education program. Hence the name. And the red-dressed skelly woman. And the colors.

Since that time, however, I’ve noticed that I rarely write about my experiences in school.

For instance, before the end of last semester I was granted the opportunity to participate in an embalming at the coroner’s office. Now, while the experience was fascinating and I’ll admit that I very much appreciated and enjoyed the opportunity, it brought to the fore an ethical dilemma:

Where is the line between “acceptable disclosure” and “encroaching on the privacy of the deceased and their family”?

On the one hand, it seems apparent that a discussion of embalming should be limited only by the public’s tolerance for details of something that most find frightening and unsavory. On the other hand, morticians don’t practice in a vacuum. The subjects on which they learn and exercise their talents were at one time real, live people deserving of discretion. Also, lest we forget, the deceased will most often be survived by friends and family members whose pain would only be exacerbated by a lack of discretion regarding the treatment and care of their loved one’s remains.

So, when I was asked to join one of my professors and a few other students at the coroner’s office last semester I found myself on shaky ground blog-wise. Obviously, there are many details that simply should not be shared. Period. In the event of a cataclysmic lack of judgment, each of us were given a packet of information that explicitly stated as much.

However, while discussing specifics was out of the question there were more general facets that I personally find fascinating and believe worth sharing.  I had a grey area.

In the end, I decided so long as I had even the smallest doubt about sharing an experience I would refrain from doing so. After all, when a person dies they are no longer capable of speaking for themselves, defending themselves or voicing a preference. They are completely vulnerable, and the last thing I want to do is exploit that vulnerability. So I censor myself now and will continue to do so in instances where I have doubts.

These doubts are not helped at all by the constant blurring between the “real world” and the atmosphere created at school in which my classmates routinely discuss things that would send most people scurrying for a barf bag. You don’t have to be a super-genius to be aware of the fact that what is normal and mundane inside the funeral industry has the potential to be regarded as macabre and disgusting by people outside of it.

Hopefully that will clear up the questions I’ve been receiving from folks who e-mail me to find out what is going on in school and to ask that I write more about it. I will definitely make an effort to return to my former focus on school – because really? It is a very fascinating field to go into with a lot of very cool stuff the share. I just ask for a little patience in return as I negotiate my way through a potential blogging minefield…