Music affects me in a magical, almost mystical manner.

Whether it is soothing my soul after a particularly difficult day or energizing me to complete a task, music is the lubricant that smoothes my way to simplicity.

I am particularly enchanted by the sound of the guitar:

Eric Clapton, Ray Lynch, Carlos Santana, Joe Satriani, Lee Ritenour, Jesse Cook ... just the men and their strings ... tying me up in the melodic threads of their genius.

Ottmar Liebert, José Luis Encinas, Craig Chiquico, and Luis Vallegas ... new age with a "latin romantica" edge ... the edge that brings me to a precipice and allows me to gently float away on their sensual flamenco rhythms.

And those jazzy guys ... Pat Metheny, Al Di Meola, Earl Clugh, George Benson, Miles Davis, and the men of Acoustic Alchemy ... mellow riffs that waft into the air and consume the night like fog off a lyrical harbor.

Time stands still in the Oz that is fine music.


Damn, it is hot.

This morning I was forced to run errands (FedX, Post Office, etc.) and I just gotta say, "Alright already with the freakin' heat!"

I get up in the morning and stumble into the shower. I need not use any hot water because the cold water is tepid to warm.

I put on an extra dab or two of deodorant "just in case". (Oddly, this somehow reminds me of the converse "three dog night").

I dressed in a lightweight oversized Hawaiian shirt and gauzy baggy pants. The more air that circulates under your clothes, the cooler you will stay. Great theory, but who really knows?

I get in my car and let the air conditioning run with the windows down to blow out the heat.

Off I go.

The sun reflecting glare from car bumpers, windshields and store front glass is blinding. I thank the Gods of Plastic for my sunglasses.

Park the car. Open the door and the heat resonating from the asphalt surface knocks me back against the car. Whoa Nellie.

The parking lot surface is foot burnin' hot even through the rubber soles of my sandals. I feel the adhesive from the bandage on my foot start to become gooey and viscous.

I stand in line with a bunch of heat-cranky individuals who are mopping at perspiration creeks coursing down their temples.

Exit the building and get hit with a wave of very hot, very dry wind that would make the folks at Conair Hair Dryers envious.

Back to my vehicle now known as "OOW" (oven on wheels).

After doing the air conditioning/blow out boogie again ... off I go.

Go I must. Anywhere but Arizona in the summer.

Antarctica anyone?


I am a firm believer that included within the characteristics and attributes that are apportioned out when we are simply zygotes feeding on the energy of creation, is a general level of "stupid".

Yes, stupidity. The big "S".

Lately it seems that my allotment of stupidity is excessive.

Whilst I would like to attribute my ditzy brainlessness to my blonde hair or perhaps being distracted, I can honestly admit that I have moments in my life where I am the poster child for "stupid".

This morning, alas ... was one of those moments. Even more profoundly inane, is the fact that this moment of stupidity has been pending since May of 2000.

Over a year ago, I ventured into Comp USA and purchased a rather spiffy CD-RW, all of the appropriate media to support the CD-RW, and a copy of Dreamweaver 3, Fireworks Studio 3.

So many of my friends and design associates have regaled me with such positive reviews of Dreamweaver as a WYSIWYG editor and I figured it was a "must have".

So, $400.00 later ... I owned a copy of this Macromedia gem.

I have a tendency to buy software only to bring it home and never install it. I simply put it on the shelf for that moment in time when I am so inspired to expand my learning curve.

Here we are a year later, and today ... I was therein inspired.

I cut the shrink wrap off of the box, whip out the CD and insert it to basically see what the install was like.

No can do!

Huh? What the heck?!

I end up phoning the fine folks at Macromedia and with a voice hushed by my embarrassment, I explain the situation.

The young woman on the phone was quite nice and very accommodating; she asked for the serial number. 19 digits later ...

... her response startled me.

Nooooooo! It can't be!

I picked up the box and determined the woman was indeed correct.

I purchased Dreamweaver 3, Fireworks 3 for MacIntosh!

I use a PC.

Here it is a year later and of course Comp USA cannot do anything for me and Macromedia does not even sell version 3 any longer.

If you see a blonde standing out in the street and throwing 400 one dollar bills to the wind, you can bet it is me!

So, here's the deal ... if you are a Mac user and do not own a Dreamweaver 3 [remember, this is an old version since the release of version 4] ... and would like a 100% free, no strings attached fully registerable copy of the product ... be the first person to email me with your name and mailing address and this copy becomes yours!

[UPDATE: The software has been spoken for and will going to Kat of Cherryland Designs!]

Provided, however, that my stupidity allows me to get the mailing address correct on the package! ;-)


My father.

How does a daughter accurately describe the man who raised her to think for herself, to believe in her ability, to honor her spirit and let nothing convince her that she is anything short of a miracle?

He could be described as a hero, a mentor, a protector and a provider.

My father was a giant of a man.

Daddy and Jann at Christmas.  Jann at 1 month old.

He stood almost 6'5" tall and was solid muscle.

They called him "Big Swede".

This gentle giant held me in his arms assuring me that life was going to be good and that all would be safe in the world that he would show me.

Yes, I was Daddy's little girl.

If he could have given me the world on a string, he would have done so ... simply to make me smile.

And naturally, Dad wanted to take me everywhere.

Of course Mom would fuss, but he feared nothing and wanted his wee Jann to feel that no hurdle was too high or obstacle too large.

His spirit was remarkable.

He wanted to show me that there was nothing that could stop me and the world was an open invitation to explore, learn and grow.

He took me to ball games, to art shows, and to live theatre.  We went to auto races, amusement parks, and the ocean.

Much of this was before I could even talk.

Dad even took me to the Rodeo Parade.

Daddy and Jann at the Annual Rodeo Parade.  Yippee-aye-yo-yi-yay.

This was highly unusual because even though he chose to live in the southwest, he found all that "cowboy stuff" a bit silly.

But not too silly to join in with his daughter.

He never once raised his hand in anger towards me but instead offered his outspread hands unconditionally.

My father's hands taught me to swing a softball bat and field the ball like a pro.  He taught me the discipline of golf and the joy of the perfect putt. His hands taught me to change a tire, sculpt in clay, draw cartoons, throw a free throw and how to post up ... and how to hold a newborn kitten.

My father was the consummate artist and detailed craftsman.  Every stroke of the brush was perfection for him.  He lived in a world of art and design. He sought beauty and creativity.

He collected bits of paper with fonts, words, images and texture.  Everything held aesthetic value to my father.

Jann wearing Dad's paint splattered shoes. Gawd, I loved doing that. I remember it like it was yesterday.

He had mighty big shoes to fill and his dream was that one day I would be the artist that he envisioned me to be.

Dad used to say that I was a natural artist.  He told this to people from the day I held my first crayon ... to a week before he died.

Yes, Dad wanted me to be happy and fulfilled but I know that the day I told him that I wanted to pursue a career in science, there was a light in his eyes that grew dim.

To this day I feel I have let him down.

If I could only turn back time.

Time runs out too quickly when you love someone.

On a Monday afternoon, almost ten years ago ... my pager went off. I was busy and ignored it.  Moments later, it went off again.

Seeing my parents' phone number in the digital light, I phoned.

Mom's only words were, "Jannie, Daddy's had a heart attack. We need you at the hospital."

Through a blur of traffic, tears and prayers too late spoken, my father had left me. My science had failed me because it nor I, could have saved him.

Hours later, while pacing in the back yard wondering what I was going to do without my Dad,  I remembered the last words he and I had exchanged earlier that day:

"Hey Jann, I want you to see this new painting."
"I will Dad ... I promise."
"Okay hon, I love you."
"I love you too."

His art never failed him.

It never let him down.

That night I walked into my parents' grand hall and looked at the portrait that my father
had painted of me as a young child.

I reached up and touched the canvas ... touching the paint.  Each stroke had been laid to canvas with love. The eyes that looked back at me were his eyes.

I was touching my father's hands.

Daddy and Jann in front of the portrait he painted of me.  That portrait is priceless and oh, so cherished.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.  Oh, how I miss you.


• NCAA World Series Championship Game: Miami vs. Stanford

• MLB: A's @ Giants

• U.S. Open - Third Round: Tiger who?

• World Cup Qualifying Soccer: USA vs. Jamaica

So many sports, too little time.

My remote is getting a workout today!


The answers are revealed and the winner announced!

I was a participant in the Blogger Trivial Pursuit created by John of loony.org and assisted by Amber of FollowingEden.

Yes, I was once "cuffed and stuffed", and the whole event was captured on camera by a news crew.

No details ... let's just say it was one BIG misunderstanding followed by many letters of apology from the authorities.


Convention - Day One:

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, smile, talk, talk, talk.

Lose voice mid-sentence:

Smile, smile, smile, squeak, smile, squeak, squeak, smile.

End of Day Two:

Whisper, whisper, smile, smile, smile, smile, whisper, whisper.

Tomorrow should be interesting: total laryngitis.


Jeff, over there Lucid Confusion way ... yes, he of the Internet Brothers fame ...

... has taken his AORTAL concept from a simple link to a full-blown project.

AORTAL places the pulse of the internet on the independent web ... the anti-portal.

Why not go read AORTAL? Grab a button, participate.

The heart of the web will beat stronger if you do.


Someone very special wrote to me and asked if they could be my friend.

I read the email numerous times and found myself smiling through tears.

What a remarkable gift to give someone ... to open yourself to them and ask to enter their life.

Friendship is such an incredible treasure in and of itself. But to have someone offer you their hand in friendship ... and ask for your hand in return, that is truly inspiring. I am humbled by the purity of the gesture.

I will keep that email always to remind me of this precious gift.

My answer?

I would be proud and most honored to call you friend.

Thank you for the inspiration. Thank you, for you.


Go to bed, turn off the light, toss and turn ... wondering where sleep went.

Turn on the light, read a book until drowsy, turn off the light, toss and turn ... wondering where sleep went.

Turn on the light, get up, eat something, go back to bed, turn on teevee and laugh at wee-hour-o-the-morning wild rantings of George Carlin on Comedy Central. Get drowsy, turn off the light, toss and turn ... wondering where sleep went.

Close eyes and concentrate on the whirring of the air conditioning and ceiling fan. Drowsy again, toss and turn ... wondering where sleep went.

Turn on light, step outside and listen to the night. The silence of everyone else sleeping is deafening. Stare at the stars, feel the warm night breeze, inhale the city in its quiet repose. Calming. Go to bed, turn off the light, toss and turn ... wondering where sleep went.

Watch the digital clock. 3:23am. 3:24am. 3:25am. Turn over, toss and turn ... wondering where sleep went.

Turn on light. Go to front door, turn off alarm, open door and check for newspaper. Close door, turn on alarm. Open newspaper, read the headlines and local news section, feel drowsy. Go to bed with financial section in hand.

Wake up at 7:00am and wonder who left the lights on. Wonder who draped the newspaper over my face. Toss and turn ... wondering where the night went.

: : : : : : : : : :

My sincere thanks to those of you who chose to link to Stand For Children yesterday. Your simple effort will go a long way in advancing the healthcare and daycare of America's children.


Stand for Children Day 2001

Today, June 1st, is the day recognized nationwide as

"Stand For Children Day"

"Stand For Children" was established in 1996 as a nonpartisan membership to provide a nationwide voice for American children.

Stand for Children stood up for quality, affordable child care and supported a $20 billion increase in guaranteed funds to the Child Care and Development Block Grant (CCDBG) to help states meet the needs of working families and improve the quality of child care and after-school programs.

Stand for Children's federal work contributed to the passage of the Children's Health Insurance Program (CHIP), which is federal legislation that provides funds to states to offer free or low-cost health insurance to as many as 5 million uninsured children.

This year's theme is "Building Our Voice and Vision for All Children".

So why stand?

• If you're a parent, grandparent, uncle, aunt, cousin, or godfather, nothing matters more than your loved ones.

• And as a caring community member, nothing matters more than the collective well-being of our children. After all, they are our future. And the stronger we stand for children today, the better they will be able to stand for themselves tomorrow.

• So we must Stand For Children in everything we do.

• We must Stand For Children because every child needs a caring, consistent adult in their life and business, political, religious, and media leaders who will stand for them.

• We must Stand For Children because children are dying right now from diseases we can prevent and suffering from sickness we can treat.

• We must Stand For Children because children are arriving at kindergarten not ready to learn and leaving high school not ready to succeed.

• We must Stand For Children because children are growing up without safe, enriching places to go after school and in the summer.

• We must Stand For Children because children are living in neighborhoods with so much violence and so few opportunities.

• And we must Stand For Children because if we help leave the world a better place for those who come after us, our legacy will be a proud one.

Check the Stand For Children website for activities that taking place in your city today. Go ... join in.

Can't do that? Or nothing is listed in your area?

Take a Cyber Stand. Visit the Stand for Children site and follow the steps to take a stand.

Join me and many of my friends online today by blogging or journaling about Stand For Children. Encourage others to take a stand.

Thank you!

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