What a terrific day!

Spending the morning listening to Stevie Wonder's "Greatest Hits Vol. 2". Singing along and smiling at the memories the various songs elicit.

Later at midday, venturing out to Best Buy and finding a remarkable sale on a lightweight, extremely portable "boombox" that does not sound tinny or weak. The bass is deep, full and warm ... and later, I thoroughly enjoyed doing some outdoor chores while listening to Everything But The Girl's "Love Not Money" and "Temperamental".

After lunch, cleaning the house while enjoying Barenaked Ladies' "Gordon" and "Stunt".

Then later this afternoon ... listening to (while watching) the OUTSTANDING SOUND of University of Arizona whipping the panties off Michigan State University in the NCAA Semi-Finals! [80-61]

YAY! Go UofA ... congratulations Lute and the Wildcats!


I have a weakness: music is my kryptonite.

Amazon.com knows this and plays right into this knowledge.

I recently received an email from the friendly folks at Amazon.com telling me that they are having a CD sale.

CD SALE!!?!?!??

Yeah, baby.

I spent a couple of hours perusing the cyber sale aisles choosing a bit o' music here and there.

Then a notion hit me: Um ... Jann, do you already own some of these CDs? Arrrgh.

Good thing I checked, because yessireebob, I did indeedy own eight of the 21 CDs I had selected!

[I have done this before ... bought duplicate CDs ... such a ditz!]

On Saturday I spent some time making a list of the CD music I own. Hey, if I needed to, I could submit it to my insurance company ... right?

Anyhow, I discovered something about myself: I once thought I had somewhat "standard" tastes in music ... but looking over the list ... I determined that I am one weirdo girlie!

I would like to place such upstanding terminology on this list as "diverse" or "multi-minded" ... however ... some of the choices are a bit ... er, um ... different?

So, if you are ever looking for bagpipe tunes, Native American flute melodies, Hawaiian lovesongs, Benedictine monk chanting, 80's dance ditties, zydeco rhythms ... let me know.

I won't steer you wrong.


The scent of orange blossoms wafts through my open windows and doors as night takes the desert.

It is the signal of Spring.

Soon the desert floor will grow dry and desolate withering under the hot summer sun ...

... but now ...

The desert is alive!

Wild flowers in orange so sweet they beg to be squeezed, yellow so intense the sun bows in honor, reds so crimson that even Revlon stands in awe ... and purple ... so majestic that the bees, butterflies and birds dance in euphoria in their presence.

Wild flowers that magically appear on the slopes, in the valleys, in fields and crevices ... planted by the hand of Mother Nature, sowed by the desert wind.

The desert dweller reaps the beauty of wildflowers like parched soil accepting the rain, standing in praise of the landscape.

As the scent of orange blossoms wafts through my window ...


Yesterday was a difficult day. One of those days that I just want to forget.

Or perhaps one of those days that I should remember ... just to remind myself how remarkable the good days truly are.

Images of loss keep creeping into my world:

A firefighter laid to rest.

An 80 year old crossing guard struck down and killed in the street.

Young people, returning from the gaiety of Spring Break at Puerto Penasco, being pulled from the wreckage of twisted metal.

The compassionate but fearful look on the face of R.G.

Images that may ... with time ... turn old, faded and torn.

Their memory will be there forever ... if only to remind myself how remarkable the good days truly are.


Stylized letters: P F D. Beautifully interwoven in red, gold and black.

Three simple letters.

Today the cities that form metropolitan Phoenix look to those three letters with pride ... and sadness.

The men and women represented by those three letters are trying to come to grips with loss.

We are a community in mourning.


Movies often make me weep. Not simply cry, but weep.

Yesterday afternoon I watched "I Dreamed of Africa" with Kim Basinger and found myself soulfully weeping during most of the movie.

I wept at the scenes of the majestic elephant and rhino brought down for their husks and horns by poachers.

I wept in awe of the remarkable beauty of Kenya, the raw energy of wild animals ... and the spirit that prevails therein.

I wept at the scenes of loss experienced by Basinger's character, Kuki Gallman.

The story is a true tale of this woman, her family, and the struggles they endured.

Later in the evening, I found myself channel surfing to Turner Classic Movies.

I was so pleased to find Louisa May Alcott's, "Little Women". This version, starring June Allyson as "Jo" and Elizabeth Taylor as "Amy", is the 1949 remake of the 1933 movie that starred a stunning Katherine Hepburn.

The main character, "Jo", is the feisty but troubled young woman who was way ahead of her time.

Again, I sat weeping.

Weeping at the sweet charm of Alcott's story.

I wept at the concepts of unrequited love, broken hearts, strong family love, selfless giving, and loss.

Two movies made fifty years apart ... both about the lives of strong women ... and each moved my gentle, sensitive spirit.

Evolution. Revolution. Life as a cycle.

And in the wonder of the moment, I wept.


Eyes fluttering against the heaviness of sleep and the break of dawn, I turn slowly onto my back and breathe deeply. My brain registers that it is morning and without fully opening my eyes, I smile.

I stretch my bare legs against the silky sheets while I wait for the softness of slumber to drift away. Again, I smile.

Arching my back against the firm mattress with the precision that Martha Graham would applaud, I lift the bed linens from my warm cocoon and feel the quiet, cool air of morning brush against my skin. I smile.

Lifting each leg over the side, I sit on the edge of the bed ... and on the edge of Heaven.

The smile has not left my face.

I close my eyes against the tears that have pooled and welled in the memory:

Angels visited me last night. I danced with them. Laughed with them. I was warmed by their light and comforted by their love.

And when they turned to leave, I wept crystalline tears that fell to the Earth like diamonds.

But for a moment, with eyes closed and in the world of dreams and slumber, I heard the whisper of angels.

I heard the voice of my Father telling me that all would be okay and the soft laugh of my Nana, assuring me that time is the gift.

Again, I smile.


*sneeks up cautiously*

Am I back?

*shakes her monitor side to side*

*knock knock knock*

Is this thing working?

Well, for right now ... I AM here.

I love my site host, Dreamhost, beyond wordage. However, they lost me when switching to a new server.

I beg your indulgence for any inconvenience.


It could happen again.

Oh, and if you emailed me ... I did not receive it. My mail goes through my site server and it went kapooey too. Lo siento mi amigos.


If given the chance to start over ... redecide a career ... choose a new path, what road would you take?

I have no doubt that, in some way, I would choose the science of forensics.

The scope and breadth of forensics are massive and encompass both right and left brain thinking. The ability to creatively construct bizarre, perverse, perhaps dangerous concepts outside of the box and then prove these concepts with scientific evidence appeals to me. To then go a step further and solve a crime or identify a missing person ... well, it intrigues and excites me.

I find myself drawn to teevee shows like "Autopsy" on HBO, "C.S.I." on CBS [which became my favorite program from its first airing], "The New Detectives" and "FBI Files" on The Discovery Channel ... etc.

I remember staying glued to the O.J. Simpson trial and watching every moment of testimony from Dennis Fung, the LAPD criminologist who bungled the evidence collection. Later, I was transfixed to the testimony of Dr. John Gerdes from the DNA lab in Denver. I even sat and hung on every tedious word from Barry Scheck as he described what DNA is, how the markers are achieved, and so on.

People tell me that I am left brained: my science background and compulsiveness to detail.

People tell me that I am right brained: my art background and compulsiveness to detail.

Regardless of which side of the brain I would use ... if I could start over ...

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