The Blue Tea Meme From A Virgin Memer

My best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) and I have been tagged by The Queen of Memes The Blue Tea Meme From A Virgin Memer. Well, you might be wondering what that means. So did we. To tell the truth, our first thought was, "Dang, we probably have nothing to wear."

Turns out, though, we could do this without any clothes on at all, if we wanted to. We got word from a totally unreliable source that Mimi Lenox, who tagged us, actually wrote her Blue Tea Meme in nothing but a neon-pink feather boa and a brown patent-leather pantsuit. Anyway, fashion is irrelevant, because all this Meme Tag thing means is that we have a nice, fun blog subject all set up for us. Starr Ann and I just have to flesh it out.

Anyway, we've been kinda long in getting around to doing this. What finally put a flame to our chaps was Mimi's thinly veiled, well not veiled at all really, threat concerning a dungeon. That did it. Starr Ann is totally in awe of anyone who has a dungeon, and ever since Mimi left that comment, Starr Ann's been on my case.

Here are the rules (and, yes, cowgirls are known for not getting on well in a 'rule' environment, but we're really trying here).

Rules For The Blue Tea Meme: Devise a list of 5-10 courses you would take to fix your life. It's more fun to be in classes with friends, so include one class from the person who tagged you that you'd also like to take. Tag five.

Okay, here's one thing Starr Ann and I decided right away. We will not be taking our courses together. That part is my idea. And I really had to insist on it, because taking a class, any class, with Starr Ann is something I've promised myself I never have to go through again in my whole life.

Last time, Starr Ann and I signed up for this meditation/yoga/tofu course called Relax Your Way To Success. Well, Starr Ann got bored with what she called the "lack of stimulation" after about the first five minutes of the first class. And we were supposed to be in the thing for two whole months, three nights a week. So, second time we went, when they handed out the yoga instructions, Starr Ann worked her evil on the drawings of ladies demonstrating poses. What she was able to do with just a pen and her sick mind really was quite remarkable. I tried to keep from laughing, but Starr Ann would do all these disgusting things to one of the sketches and shove it so seriously right in front of me, and then I'd accidentally look at it and crack up.

That kind of thing kept happening, until on the night of the fifth class meeting, we got kicked out because "Margo's lack of maturity is interfering with the other students' experience." And these were people who are practically professionals at being calm and accepting!

Bottom line, we're not taking anymore classes together. Ever.

Anyway, we get to make up courses!

Starr Ann's first. It's hard to tell from these how lighthearted that girl really is. Deep down.

1. How to Prepare Edible Meals in a Post-Apocalyptic America

Class Description: Use of post-annihilation probable foodstuffs will be discussed and explored. Recipes will include, but not be limited to, 'Blackened Twig Shortbread', 'Stone Stew' and 'Mutant Chicken Egg Souffle.' 1.5 Credit Hours

2. Personal Laser-Beam Application to Deter Eyes in the Sky

Class Description: Participants will build a highly individualized and camoflaged Sun-hot laser system as a means of protecting the personal right to privacy. 3 Credit Hours

3. Fooling All The People All The Time

Class Description: Phone pranks, escape methods, and tricky cowgirl techniques for getting into tight spots, but slipping right out again with minimum detection. Independent study

Now mine. These are a little narrower in scope, and not really college-level classes like Starr Ann's were. But they're things I think would be real helpful.

4. Profanity For Dummies

I have a rare form of dyslexic Tourette's Syndrome. In theory, I can cuss. But faced with a real-life cussing situation, I get the words all wrong, no matter how hard I try. I already blogged about the whole thing, so you've got the picture. I even mess up that acronym form of Internet cussing. You wouldn't believe how many Cool Lesbian chat rooms I've been thrown out of for saying things like OFHJLLRPQGF!!! At first, you can just see all the Cool Lesbians emailing each other real fast behind the scenes, trying to figure out what clever profanity I've come up with. Then I accidentally ask something obvious like, What does OMFG stand for?' and all of a sudden it hits them that I'm clueless and everybody starts ignoring me. Anyway, learning to cuss real fancy and on the spot is a longtime dream of mine.

5. Quick Removal of CD Cellophane

I don't think this needs explanation. CD wrappers are ridiculous.

Starr Ann and I tossed a coin to decide who gets to share one of Mimi's courses. I won!

6. Foreign Affairs 303

A hot Cuban dancer with flashing dark eyes and a cha-cha-cha in his (mine will be a her) caio is really what I mean, but I digress. I need to know in one simple three-paragraph summary in complete-cut-the-political-BS-sentences. WHY are we still fighting?

7. Drawing/Editing Yoga Poses

Okay, I admit it. Starr Ann's vulgarization of those yoga pose drawings made me wish I had her artistic talent. I swear, what that girl can do with a line drawing of a woman doing Downward Dog will bring absolute tears to your eyes.

So, who are Starr Ann and I tagging?

Sandwriter, TripleSecs, FRoG, Becky C, and Heather.

A Good Posse Always Gets Her Woman

My best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) was sitting at the foot of my bed staring at me when I woke up this morning. That's always a sure sign it's going to be an innerestin day.

"Margo, we've come perilously close to acting like grownups lately. Don't try to deny it."

I sat up. "Not denying that. I've noticed it too. What do you have in mind?"

Starr Ann rocked her chair to the least safe chair position - resting on the rear legs only. Dang, she was out for danger and it showed! She hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and got real thoughtful. "Only way to lick a situation like this," she said, with a desperate, devil-may-care look in her eye, "is to assemble The Posse."

"Hot dang! Starr Ann, you just gush good ideas, sometime, you know that?"

As it turned out, the entire Happy Hands Ranch Posse, excepting two, were available.

Becky C, who frankly lives to shop, was out, well, shopping. Starr Ann and I had forgotten about the Friday after Thanksgiving being the biggest shopping day of the year. When we reached Becky, she was in the middle of picking out which pair of short shorts she wanted to wear as she shopped the day away.

The other member who couldn't make it was Mimi. Blog Blast for Peace was so incredibly successful, Mimi is still surfing the Blogosphere, finding Peace Blogs to leave her lovely, encouraging comments on.

Anyway, there we were, all saddled up, horses dancing, kinda circling around and high. It was Starr Ann, Sandwriter, Lori, FRoG, Hill Country Gal, Hapless Tigger, and me. We were feeling pretty good about what the afternoon had in store, when the final member, Cap'n Dyke, came flying up out of nowhere on her horse, Plunder.

Starr Ann nodded to the Cap'n and said, "This is all of us, then. Let's break up on even sides."

Hill spoke up first. "OMFG!!!"

I'll just tell you right away that Hill actually says the letters. She really does.

So, Hill continues, "I hope you lezzies don't get all involved with the minutiae of dividing up again. Last fucking time, it was getting dark when we finally got to the chase." But we know Hill well enough to realize she wasn't really mad. Especially when she laughed real hearty and said, "ROTFLMAO!!! As the only straight posse members, FRoG and I should be on separate sides. And let's try to keep that one thing from happening. Starr Ann, you know who the hell I'm talking to."

Starr Ann couldn't deny it, so she just kept things moving along. "Okay, FRoG and Hill on opposite teams. Now, Lori, between the two of them, who are you riding with?

Lori looked at first Hill, then FRoG. "FRoG certainly has all the qualities-"

Hill broke in with, "Cut the shit, Hahn. You with me, or you with FRoG."

Lori said, "FRoG."

FRoG smiled real sweet, but also eyed up the rest of The Posse. We all knew from experience that FRoG, despite having her head in the clouds much of the time, can be real competitive. Vicious, almost. And she likes to ride with the best of the best. Very ambitious. Plus, she moved to the Southwest recently, which just about made the rest of us cowgirls expire with envy.

Right then, Sandwriter whipped out her poetic license and took over. She said, "Lest we lose more daylight, trying hard to be fair, let me divide us up right, and we'll ride without care." Keen-eyed and savvy, Sandwriter surveyed our group. "Hapless Tigger with FRoG, and Margo, you too. Hill, the Cap'n and I are with you."

Everybody bunched their horses in the clusters Sandwriter had assigned. Except for Hapless Tigger. She was on her cell phone again.

I said, "Hey, Triple Secs, can't you just get your bets down all at once so we don't have to stop every five minutes this time?"

Into her phone, Tigger said, "Hold just a minute, please." She muffled the phone to her chest and looked at me. "Margo, I just this minute decided on my trifecta. What do you want me to do? Simply pass it up?"

You can't argue with Triple Secs when it comes to betting horses, so I just shut my mouth. Finally, she turned her phone off and got her horse in position.

While the two groups faced off, Plunder, a stallion black as deep space with stars in his eyes and quite hard to handle, danced beneath Cap'n Dyke as he registered her anticipation. The Pirate Queen smirked in my direction and steadied her horse, saying, "Ease up, Plunder! Th'chase be afoot soon enough."

The coin was tossed and FRoG's team won. We chose to be the Outlaws. That meant Hill's group would be the Law. As always, the Outlaws were granted a ten minute lead. We spurred our horses and raced off toward the cliffs to the north of Happy Hands Ranch. Once beyond those, we could choose a change of direction without the Law seeing which way we went.

Us Outlaws gave those peacekeepers a run for their money, all right. I was the last Outlaw still on the loose, and it was just about dark before they captured me. Actually, it was getting so cold out, I almost didn't mind when I rounded that boulder and ran Trickster right up on Starr Ann and Cap'n Dyke, the both of them sitting there on Oatmeal and Plunder, looking like two cats about to divide up one little mouse. I put my hands in the air, and the game was over. Personally, I think it was uncalled for that they tied me across my saddle and took me in that way, telling everybody how I tried to make a run for it and they had to kill me. But I went along with what they told me to do, because Posse Day rules say when you get captured, you forfeit all choice in how they take you in.

We sat around the fire until late in the night, tired as all get out and real hungry from being outside most of the day. Lori brought over enough food to fill up three posses and we feasted until the wee hours, listening to blog stories and just enjoying the good company.

When everybody left, Starr Ann said, "No danger of turning into a grownup when you ride with women like that."

Dona Nobis Pacem

All there is, is atoms and space. Everything else is illusion. (Melissa Etheridge)


Special Guest Blogger: Starr Ann

Have you ever heard of a Partners Desk? My best friend Margo (hi, Margo) and I have one of them. A Partners Desk has two fronts, so the partners can sit across from one another, facing, as they work. Usually, Margo is writing fiction and I'm...well let's just say I'm making plans. Here's a picture of a Partners Desk that's a lot fancier than ours, but at least it gives you an idea what I'm talking about.



Neat, huh? Last night, Margo and I were at our desk working on today's BlogBlast for Peace post. I was having trouble getting started, and my mind began to drift. Margo was concentrating very hard, but she wasn't writing much. You can always tell when Margo gets traction on an idea because her words start zooming all over the place. You probably noticed that if you ever read her stuff. It's like somebody threw a ball bearing into a halfpipe. Words start rolling like crazy, up and down ramps, and flying up in the air and going nearly out of control, until they finally settle once she gets her idea out. I wrote down that image, thinking maybe I'd use it in my half of our peace blog, because when she gets to that point, what you've got is a person at peace.

After about ten more minutes of us both basically spinning our wheels, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to reach into my second drawer from the top and get out my spitball straw. The first spitball hit her on the arm and she barely even noticed. The second one hit her below her collarbone, but all she did was rub once where I got her. The third one hit her writing hand and landed on the page, next to her pen point. I knew there was going to be trouble when she stayed very calm and didn't look up.

Like a crocodile striking from still water, Margo launched herself across our desk and wrestled me to the floor. Strengthwise, we're an even match. But she is ticklish and I am not. I always win because of that. Once I'd tickled her into submission, we were lying on the floor, on our backs, panting hard. Then the endorphins hit and we started giggling and saying whatever came to our heads. Peace was on our minds because of the blog.

Margo said, "Know what's peaceful?"

"Yeah, tickling you silly."

"That too, but I really like being in the barn all by myself listening to the horses eat."

I knew exactly what she meant. I said, "Or working on something, anything, so hard you all of a sudden look up and have no earthly idea what time it is."

"Yeah, that's always good. And then there's that chemical change that happens from crying and how peaceful you feel afterward."

I reminded Margo that I don't cry much. She nodded. Then we started batting peaceful moments and thoughts back and forth.

"The cold, still minutes right before sunrise."

"Salty soup and crackers after you've been sick."

"Joan Baez's voice singing anything. Or talking."

"Watching Ruffian's races over and over and over."

"Falling asleep in a pool of sunlight."

"The moments after orgasm."

"Overhauling the underground bunkers and re-stocking their food supplies."

"That's not peaceful."

"To me it is."

"Reading Willa Cather."

Anyway, you get the idea. We must have been lying there for half an hour when Jodie came walking in. Margo had fallen asleep, so Jodie spoke softly as she eased down beside us. I told her how our attempt to blog about peace had ended up in a fairly violent wrestling match. I recounted for her the peaceful images we'd come up with lying there on the floor.

I said, "All those beautiful, peaceful experiences are wonderful, and I'm so grateful we get to have them. But, do you ever feel guilty for how fortunate we are? Are we the modern, American incarnation of the good Germans?"

Jodie took my hand and squeezed as she thought about that. She stood up and retrieved a copy of our Peace Globe from Margo's side of the desk. "Look at this. The Earth, Nature, is a dynamic system full of beauty yes, but She also thrives on violence. Think about all life through all the ages. How have the vast majority of individual lives ended? By being eaten. Uninterrupted peace isn't natural."

"Are you saying we just stand by? Just let violence take its course?"

"Hell no. We fight it every step of the way. Resist with all our might." Jodie shook her head and smiled. "But that's not what we're talking about at the moment. We're talking about the place of peace in the world. And I believe peace is exactly what you two made of it tonight. You can't feel peaceful all the time, any more than the world is ever going to be bathed in perpetual peace. What you can do, all you can do, is pay damn good attention to the peace that comes your way."

Jodie kissed me goodnight and went home so I could write down these events. We debated over whether to wake Margo up so she could help with the post, but she just looked too peaceful lying there asleep.

Radio Nights

My best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) can work miracles when it comes to slowing life down and savoring the good stuff.

Like tonight. Tonight at 10pm EST, one of our sheros will be interviewed on Blogtalk Radio and Starr Ann has it all planned out how we're going to make it a real occasion.

That's right! Mimi Lenox, creator of Peace Globes and Blogging for Peace, will be on Doctor Anonymous Live. And we get to call in questions and everything.

So here's what Starr Ann has planned. Of course Jodie will be there. And at this very moment, Starr Ann is riding over to Lori Hahn's ranch (wonder what Lori's gonna call her place?) to invite her over to listen with us. Starr Ann says we'll make a nice fire in the fireplace, bake a cake and have a big pot of chili, rev up the PC, and sit back to hear Mimi discuss Blog For Peace Day (November 7) and all the great people she has met since coming up with her stunning idea.

Starr Ann says she's going to cover the PC with the beautiful abaya a friend stationed in Iraq sent to us. Starr Ann thinks the PC will ruin the ambience created by the fire and covering it might make things more cozy. I agree with that. And Starr Ann is kinda unerring when it comes to setting a mood.

We really hope Lori comes over. It's going to be almost like an L-Word party. Without the pathos. Or the too-skinny ladies acting all disinterestedly cool and aloof, yet urgent and edgy. And without the slithery love scenes, which I tend to close my eyes during, since I happen to think that if sex were really like that, I might just pass. And before you tell me I'm crazy, I'll just say I've already been told that. By most of the other people at the real L-Word parties. I get a lot of, "But just loooook at Bette." And this: "Do NOT tell me you'd kick Carmen out of bed." And, "If you don't find Alice hot, well, then I just don't know about you." Okay, so here's my take on the whole thing. They're too skinny, damn it. And they're shallow, in a deeply angsty sort of way. Plus, don't even mention that blonde one, the one marinated in semen, what's her name, Tina. Then once the other L-Word partiers back me into a corner and I blurt out that I have fantasies about Shane, they step back one step to give me room to expand on that. So, since I refuse to lie, I tell them. It goes like this. I like to imagine Shane and me just hanging out. Drinking beer. Playing pool. Roaming around, finding fun stuff to do. And we're at this one bar, listening to this really good band, and we hook up with Tina Fey. And she decides to hang with us. Right about then, all the L-Word partiers think the scenario is getting to the good part. That's when I have to tell them that nothing sexual happens. We just hang out. Ride around (Tina Fey drives, because she isn't having any of the beer). At that point, I have disgusted everybody to the point that they back away from me and begin the After L-Word festivities. You know what they are. Endless replays of that black underpants dance Carmen did for Shane a coupla seasons ago.

Anyway, I hope a whole lot of us lefty bloggers end up listening to Mimi tonight.