No Dryers in Europe?

No Dryers in Europe?

So I am ” living” in a foreign country.  It is European so the culture is older than our USA sisters. However, it is the dark ages for women.  I can purchase shoes for Italy, handbags from Spain but if I want a dryer the apartment will need   a remodel-no space or hookups for dryers. After the remodel I discover from the electronic  store that I will have to order one as they don’t ” keep them in stock.”

Now it is October.  It is raining outside.  It is cold.  Last night I hung the clothes that I washed in the shower ( because I haven’t figured out how to wash in this ” toy machine.”

The process:  I was nude.  I heated up the on demand hot water heater and laid the clothes in the floor in the shower. Then I stomped them; turned them over like pancakes; walked on them and then tried to wring out the water and the bubbles with the dishwashing soap named ” Fairy.”  Yes, I am nude as this is something you can’t do with your clothes on.

I hung my husband’s shirt over the shower rod without a curtain –  there isn’t one there. I draped the underwear over the heaters that looked like ” fat white ladders” hanging on the wall.  I used the loops on my pajamas and hung the over the balcony with wire hangers. This morning they were heavy with rain.

I can’t imagine how a mother takes care of laundry  without dryers.  Your house has to have some access to clothesline  and people in apartments either use the balcony or a set of ropes and pulleys   strung across the windows outside their highrise apartments.  But what about on rainy days and freezing temperatures?  If you drape them around your house you are essentially ” living in the dryer.”  Apartments here don’t pay per usage of heating.  They pay per square meter.  So if you live in a small apartment your heating bill is less than a big apartment. The occupant can turn up the heat and cook the clothes and sweat the family.


When I arrive back to the USA I am writing a Thank You and Appreciation Letter to my dryer and to the women who said, ” If you want me to do your laundry invent the dryer!




Transmission Fluid is Lousy Conditioner

Transmission Fluid is Lousy Conditioner

If prostration and devotion, along with weekly commitments make a religion, then my god could quite possibly be a 1976 Chevy Silverado.

It’s the similarities in life that create beauty and fluidity through all matters, and allow us to find common grounds as people. For example, the skills you learn when taking up pole dancing, can be very helpful when removing the driveshaft of a truck; a strong grip, a well positioned leg, and balance.

The reason I bring this up, is because….it seems like something has always been pushing me from the shadows to be a one trick pony.A career girl, a skinny girl, a rock star, a mother,a good daughter, a kind person, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera I would not encourage you to live your life like me, because, I am, in fact, no sort of role model.

However, I suppose that we are all role models in our own way. It might be a good thing, if we thought of ourselves as the finished product of however many years of triumphs and losses, instead of some debilitated human, bogged down by our past, and constantly on the road to self improvement.To be that perfection achieved….(sigh).

A fat girl can fuck, eat, laugh, and dance just as well as a skinny one. The world is both cruel and beautiful, both kind and ugly,with so much of it in our outlook. There will always be room for improvement, I suppose, but, someday… well, we will be looking up, flat on our back, taking in that last breath,and then…who knows?

Chevies, like gods, don’t usually tell you when they are going to quit on you, they just do it…so, it’s best to do what you can, before the transmission falls out, or the engine locks up.

Sirens (An old story retold)

Sirens (An old story retold)

The voice of the slightly bald man croons Frank Sinatra in a heavily wavering voice.
“My wayyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeee……”

The Spring Break Crowd, overexcited by the tequila, applauds loudly, a tan boy with bleach blonde hair whistling shrilly and pushing nearby eardrums to maximum vibration. I shake my head and groan under my breath. My sister, Licentia takes the microphone and calls up the next singer, her eyes dull, and her smile plastic. My shoulders itch. My other sister, Audacia, comes up from the cooler, a mixed case of beer and wine coolers in her hands. She has red hair, and Blue sparkling eyes. They used to be green, but that was years ago. Licentia comes behind the bar as the synthetic notes of Electric Avenue began playing.

“I’ve been having that dream again.” I say. “I’m flying, and-” I stop. Audacia looks at me, agitated, and begins shoving beers in the ice tub behind the bar. Some nights, my fingers go numb from the cold in there. Busy nights, you spend hours, cracking beers and handing them off. The register gathers pools of water under the money. How long have we been here now? I think back on the dream. The wind, trees whipping by, a green shady blur. Then I’m pushing up past the canopy of the forest and into the sunlight, my wings stretching out wide now, swooping upwards. Licentia slaps her hand down on the bar beside me and I shudder out of my daydream.
“Wake up!” She yells, coming around the bar and heading back to the stage. I sit the bar towel down and walk out the service door, flipping off my sandals and step onto the warm sand, while sea grass blows around the pathway. I follow it down to the beach proper. It’s busy, but there is a bare spot near the waves. The tourists just want to lie out and get drunk. They usually don’t swim for another month. The cold waves must kill their buzz. I head for the open spot, and sit, feeling the breeze, with my toes near the edge. I could walk into the ocean, and never come out. Go back to a time, I can remember, before we were barmaids. I can’t take this anymore. My shoulders itch, my wings aching to be again. My feathers were taken so long ago, prizes for a rigged contest.
You can’t take a girl’s voice, even if you do give her legs, or take her wings. Perched on the rocks, we sang the songs of a million men’s souls. They died for us, easily, and later, in the most entertaining ways. It was never satisfying, though. Not since we had been downcast. Finally, we decided that taking lives and being bored on a rock was less than we could do with our talents. After a lot of bars, a few thousand years, we ended up here.
I pull myself up onto my feet. The sun is getting lower, and it is my time of day now. I don’t feel quite as bad now as the sea fills with gold. I can hear the crowd inside as I near the bar ,and as all earthbound creatures, I too must make the best of it.




From our bed, I watch you shave at the bathroom sink. Read more…You are naked. You smile at me as I hug your pillow, soaking up your warmth, your cologne. Sunshine-spotlight showing off your shoulder ink. The small moments we share together aren’t huge displays of affection. Our love spark shows up in simple, unrefined moments. As I watch you shave your dark shadow away, I join you wearing your t-shirt. We are silent as I take in your manliness. You still give me that spark, the fire that I searched for all of my life. You are my one, my firework, my love spark.

JFJ – Jump For Joy

JFJ – Jump For Joy


If you get that warm-fuzzy-feeling inside when you’re doing something…that makes you want to jump for joy and shout out loud, keep doing it. When you follow that feeling, you’re on track to what your soul is meant to be doing. If you find that you can spend hours on it and it feels like minutes, you’re on the right track to what your purpose is. You’ll find everything else in your daily life is easier too.

Rainy Morning

Rainy Morning

You have to be strong.

In this life, failure is inevitable. You will not be able to win every time.In fact, if you win 60% of the time, then you are doing well for yourself.

So, all that anxiety about failure?

It could be right.

So what?

108 Billion people have lived on Earth up to now.

How many do you know of?

Live your damn life.

And don’t be a dick about it.