Earthquake Weather

Something's coming sky is purple
Dogs are howling to themselves
Days are changing with the weather
Like a rip tide could rip us away

I push I pull the days go slow
Into a void we filled with death
And noise that laughs falls off their
Maps all cured of pain and doubts
In your little brain

— Beck, "Earthquake Weather"

Fine day for an earthquake, yes?

So, I'm fine. Actually, I was annoyed! I was, like, cooking the books at work, and I nearly screamed: "HOW CAN A GIRL THINK IN HERE WITH THE FURNITURE MOVERS UPSTAIRS?"

And then the building started shaking. Swaying, actually. Which is not a good thing to feel when you're on the eighth floor.

There was no question. One of our leaders was in the World Trade Center on 9/11, and she was told, "Oh, everything's fine, continue on," by building security. And she was like ...

(Um, I'll edit was she was like here)

You do know it took a half-hour for the building to collapse, right?

So she, on her own, evacuated group, and because of her, thirty people are still alive today, who wouldn't have been.

They told us that we could work from home for the rest of the day. And I'm like, yeah, right, like I'm gonna go back into the building to get the books, and I need system access and like they're gonna give that to me on my creaky laptop.

And then the commute home. 'Commute'? Did I say 'commute'? 'Nightmare,' more like. I should have just bedded down on the stone bench in the park. I mean: really!

JEEZ, people! It's only:

"It's one of the largest that we've had there," USGS seismologist Lucy Jones told CNN. Aftershocks were a concern, she said. "People should be expecting (them), especially over the next hour or two," she added.

It's not like the end of the world! I swear: Washington, D.C. is one of the most panicky cities in the world! People see one snowflake and they cancel Government work for three weeks.

Okay. We had an earthquake. That happened. It was a little fun, a little exciting. I'm fine. Really. Thank you for your thoughts and concerns. Kisses for you!

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Burnt by the Sun

So, like, when will I ever learn?

So I went to the pool with my nieces ("The Watermine!") (I think the exclamation point is part of the name of the park). And every little Irish girl was wearing either a tee shirt or a long-sleeved wet suit shirt thingie? Because their moms were like: "Oh, no, Hannah, we are NOT taking you to the hospital again today!"

But was my mom here to tell me that.

My entire skin hurts! I mean, like: ouch!

Did the life guard(esse)s wear shirts? NO! Is it some requirement that to be a life guard, you have to be this bronzed goddess, perfectly sculpted, and be willing to work for a pay that is less than they charge for lunch at these theme parks?

The dress was all over the map. I wore a one piece. No way was I gonna wear a bikini, because, being Irish, I would be in the hospital now, if I did, AND I don't need to advertise my "no tits, no hips" (lack of) figure.

Okay, I do have a little bit of a bubble butt, but that's like ... okay, I'm slightly pleased with my curve back there, at least I have one, you know, and it's not sagging or BBW, as they say. But nothing to proclaim to everybody.

I'm surprised a lifeguard didn't pull me out of the pool with the stern warning: "You can't swim without a parent's supervision, young lady!"

Self conscious much, `phfina?

You bet.

My nieces could be life guards. They had on one pieces, too: these bright orange-yellow things that contrasted with their bronzed skin.

Okay. Time out. Why does everybody else get perfect-perfect skin except us Irish girls? Except for my hair, I could have plastered myself against the white-washed wall and be totally ignored, but everybody else? Bronze goddesses everywhere in that pool, I swear!

So, anyway: nieces, so we were walking along from slide to slide when another girl, blond, blue eyed was walking along beside us, and she was wearing the exact same orange-yellow suit as my nieces ... about the same age, too. My nieces exchanged smiles with the girl. I had the sudden urge to bring her home and be her mommy, you know? Is that an urge that strikes us at a certain time in our lives? I'm scared, looking forward to worrying about 'oh, my clock is ticking!' where I'll just bed anything to put babies in me.

Um ... but not tonight. I'm off to bed, and I'm eyeing it, and the sheets that look to me now like razor blades with some trepidation. I wonder if I'll be able to rise tomorrow or the next day.

You know what I'm afraid of? Not being able to go to work on Monday, and Cindy or Janet asking, 'But, hun, why can't you come in?' and it'll become this big integrity issue were I coulda-woulda-shoulda but I didn't and it's all my fault.

And it will be, but then, come Monday I may be just fine, so why am I putting these worry lines on my face?

Chillax, `phfina

Okay. Good advice. I'm chillaxin'. Good night!

Daughters of Club Bilitis

Okay, what are you doing right now?

Well, if you haven't watched Daughters of Club Bilitis, I would urge you to drop whatever it is you are doing, and sit down for about one hour and watch all four segments of this movie (1, 2, 3, 4).

It's Korean. Doesn't matter, because it's universal.

And the beauty of it, is they don't focus on one story, one age, but weave in all three phases of life, from the teenage crush (eh, `phfina, like you haven't outgrown that, Miss that's all I write about?) to the young committed couple, so lost in their own problems they can reach out to each other to help, to the 'old biddies' who are the perfect couple, ... but at what cost?

I write this review as if I watched a tragedy, and, yes, I did cry (cries?) (how many hankies did I use?), and it is, Korea is a society so homophobic a mother would rather bite her tongue off and die than hear her daughter is in love with another girl, and, even, a lesbian couple hope and pray their own daughter never gets this 'sickness.' And that's what these women are living in and through.

And, somehow, magically (and beautifully: realistically, this isn't a rosy 'love conquers all' story) they make it work. And wonderfully: the film shows how they have to keep making it work, every day, day in and day out, and how tiring that can be, how scary, and for each other, how ... how special, sweet, tender, spiteful, jealous, scared, beautiful, agonizingly beautiful.

And hopeful.

Watch this film. Please.

And ladies, filming this movie, and acting in it ... I salute you (`phfina salutes). Thank you for daring to make this.