The Day I Met Pele’



The World Cup and soccer in general remind me of Brazil and Pele’. In my youth I traveled to Brazil as an exchange student as a fresh-faced 17-year-old American girl. One of the highlights of my stay was meeting Pele’ at the American Ambassador’s Independence Day celebration. Fourth of July parties are common in the various American Embassies worldwide, and local celebrities are often present, as were McDonald’s and Pizza Hut. Local Americans who are registered at the Embassy get an invitation. Simple as that. It was merely a party for about five thousand guests with American fast-food and the most famous Soccer player in the World!

Upon arrival, I took the opportunity to meet our Ambassador, who cheerfully urged us exchange students to drink up, as there was plenty of beer! He winked when I pointed out that we were under age…hey…it’s a party, and this is American soil, kids. Feeling less interested in beer than in the guest of honor, I asked “Where is Pele’?” The Ambassador pointed to a large group mobbing someone on the lawn; so I trotted over, invitation in hand, already signed by the Ambassador. Soccer was just starting to gain popularity in the US, and I knew Pele’ was important to the world as a “Soccer Ambassador”. I learned to love soccer in Brazil, and here was the beloved Brazilian GOD of soccer in the middle of a writhing mass of humanity. Gulp.

In Brazil, people tend to touch each other more than we do in American culture. When an American girlfriend and I took the bus together, we would often play a game we devised called “How Many People Are Touching Me Right NOW?” We kept a running tally, and my record was 8. People were pressed tightly against us, but in haphazard ways that often involved random erections.  Lurching random dickery. Bleh. So tiresome, but we girls got used to it, as a part of the culture that creeped us out, just as surely as the weird sucking sound men would make when we passed. We laughed about it, but it was scarier being a girl in Brazil because of the lurching dickery and mouth suckery for sure. To get that autograph, I had to steel myself a little.

So Pele’ was in the middle of a writhing mob of humanity, mostly Brazilians. When I say a writhing mob, I mean a fairly large group comprised of hundreds of people surrounding a person on all sides and pressing in CLOSE. The man had no bodyguards, you simply slithered toward him as best you could, running a gauntlet of random dickery. My companions were too cool to crowd plunge for an autograph, so off I went. My persistence paid off when ten minutes later, I was plastered against Pele’s back. The man was clearly fit, rock hard, healthy and signing autographs as fast as he could. I saw him write over and over “Do Amigo, Pele’”, meaning: “Your Friend, Pele’”. When he saw me over his left shoulder, he signed one more autograph and turned around to face me. He kept me there for several minutes as he signed autographs, smiling. He kept me there longer than entirely necessary, but when he finally signed my invitation, he signed it “1 Beijao, Pele’”, meaning “A Big (tongue) Kiss, Pele’”.

Wow! Plastered against Pele’ I had connected in a tangible way with  a living legend whose brilliance, leadership and humility has ensured his continued “Icon” and “Ambassador” status today as we watch the World Cup in Brazil.  It is humbling to think that I was literally touched by greatness: full frontal greatness! Instead of merely being my friend, the gentleman would indeed have perhaps given me a passionate kiss had the situation been less mob-like. Ahhhh Brasil…


Despite the dicks I had to ignore to get it,  I still have the invitation as a sweet memento of success. I am so grateful to the Universe that I have a personal tale of persistence and success when faced with constant and relentless dickery. Sometimes you have to keep your eyes on the prize and ignore the dicks and potential dicks that could frighten you or hold you back in the first place.

Enjoy the World Cup!


Smack Dab In The Middle



I had the great pleasure of meeting some accomplished and talented musicians  in a band called Smack Dab at a local music venue in Portland, OR. This is simply an offering of photos from my Blackberry that captured a night of great “World” music from this band based in Hilo, HI. Great energy.


Real Friends Will Actually Help Dispose Of The Body



My dog Serena is a Borzoi. She is an unusually good hunting dog with a strong drive to eradicate any encroachment from those creatures who are not welcome in our home or yard. It’s what dogs do? I accept it and prefer less “vermin” in the yard, but I don’t always appreciate the aftermath…

While I had noted a kerfuffle late last night in the yard that led me to think she had probably found a squirrel or mouse or other rodent-y thing and killed it, I was not prepared to see the “trophy” that she so gracefully pranced about this morning before coffee. She had extricated the critter from the thicket where she had dispatched it (nearly silently!) last night and delivered it to me at the sliding door with some blackberry bramble still attached.


I’m not good at this “dead thing” disposal game. When there is an estimated 25 pound dead toothy thing on the deck I will, and do, beg a friend to step in to help. I’m no fool on this one…I know what it would cost me in anxiety and actual retching to take care of this task myself. I say NAY and call in a friend or two whose skill set include carcass removal.



Atta Boy indeed. Smile

Here’s to friends who will help or at least witness the dark lurching creepy things that confront us in our daily lives and on our decks. Untroubled by foulness…able to remain composed for the removal of all that is NATURAL yet less than charming…HERO and SHERO of tidiness in the face of death literally at the doorway…Thank you, FRIENDS! I salute you!


Weight A Minute



I was greeted with an unsolicited and probably well-intentioned magazine subscription today: Weight Watchers. I have nothing but praise for this magazine that promotes a “Brand”, a “Lifestyle”, a “FOCUS” if you will, for those who are seeking more information on products, fashions and ideas for weight loss. Magazines in general ensure that people inform themselves with cutting-edge recycled tips to maintain a certain baseline neurotic self-consciousness about the human form. I do not prefer the “BIG BOX” pop-culture offerings over a focus on my unique dietary and exercise needs and preferences.

Unsolicited advice (or magazine subscriptions) that focus on one’s weight and dieting infers so many assumptions about a person and their daily routine or reality that it becomes hard to know how to react. Wow. To the person who purchased this subscription: simply fuck off, please…but since you asked….


I’d have preferred to select my own magazine subscription. Choice matters. Actually asking a person what they might prefer to motivate or inspire them toward a positive goal is truly appreciated, charming and compassionate.

If you’re a woman in the US, you probably have felt “overweight” regardless of your actual size or shape. It seems that no matter what you have done, are doing, or will do, your actual weight is measured right alongside the weight of your character or any challenge you may face. I’ve always been on the higher end of the spectrum by any standard measurement of averages such as weight, IQ, creative outputs, etc. Oddly but not uncommonly, for most of my life it seemed that I was always on some “diet” or another, instituted by my parents or other family members, or because of some personal notion that I needed to be slimmer for my health and comfort. It has been a recurring theme throughout my life.

Ironically, a diagnosis of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome a few years back confirmed what I had already observed: I have a  glandular metabolic disorder that ensures that every calorie consumed is hoarded for the potential famine to come. You skinny fuckers will die, and mutants like me will thrive and carry on in the post-apocalyptic times of scarcity.


Sometimes that’s just the way it goes, so one learns to adapt. I’ve always known I need to eat very little to survive; the rest is just what’s for dinner, so I consciously eat less. There is a medication that I could take that would speed up my metabolism, but it has less than pleasant side effects that involve never emerging from the bathroom. Of course exercise is important to healthy, vigorous living, and I’m mindful of that as well. We all know what we know, after all! Or we should probably remember something about exercise if we are (indeed) an adult. Low impact, stretchy dancing, yoga-ish workouts are my favorites, along with walking, hiking and anything that tends to get my heart rate up. Winking smile

I stopped “dieting” and focused instead on the quality of my food. I’ve steadily lost weight gradually living by a few maxims:DSCN0648

Quality versus quantity.

The less “refined foods” the better.

Moderation in all things.

Margarine = Death.Smile


Letting go of things, ideas, and connections that don’t actually support my worldview or well-being has been a gradual transformation.

For those who struggle against lurching disapproval, ignorant judgements, unsolicited drivel or harmful assumptions: it helps to distance oneself from well-intentioned people whose perspectives of us as human beings are so limited that they lack the capacity to view us as more than an Icon, character, or archetype from a remote distance. People only KNOW you if they do.


When we “idealize” a person’s life condition, we make assumptions based on our own perspective and ideas and proceed accordingly.

When we “realize” a person’s life condition, we ask questions, acknowledge the person’s difference from ourselves and tune in to their perspectives and viewpoints with empathy.

Thank you for reading this rather personal glimpse into weighty topics. I love real people, and of course everyone and anyone is free to comment. Fair warning: prodding the opossum at this point might prove snarly.


Miss Ann Tropics and Pineapple Joes



Miss Ann is not a fan

Of people’s petty play

She sees what she will

But mostly looks away


It’s easier to hate

When you’re pretending

The compost heap

Is not impending


Pineapple Joe just minds his own

Without at care for what’s to come

He plays his game of dudehood grown

A selfish man of beachy bum




Why the carnage?

Joe and Ann at it again

Play with garbage

But don’t suck it in


Be a juicy fruit

Serve the center

Careful of your roots

Be a better mentor

White And Black: The Jacks Have My Heart!

I’m drawn to Jack Black and his goofy comedic meanderings. Mr. Black has a charming way about him that hints of a rare depth and splendor. Anyone who shares my love of music and comedy along a silly vein makes my heart sing. He had me at Wonderboy…


Jack White reminds me of many of the Fine Artists of my acquaintance, whose mind flies in several creative directions at once. Passionately engaged with the Artistic process and the rich cultural history of Music, is Mr. White. Oddly enough, he had me at upholstery. Oh how I appreciate those who appreciate and care for furniture…








Could you imagine the creativity unleashed if these two magnificent Jacks were co-located at a small gathering of my choosing? I’m thinking really small. Maybe just Jack, Jack and me. Is it WRONG to imagine how resplendent the gathering would be with intellect, music, repast and TWO marvelous Jacks for one Queen? A Milkstool can DREAM! 🙂