True Story: M.A.R.T.I.N.A N.A.V.R.AT.I.L.O.V.A.

In honor of one of the few sports figures I actually know, I want to send best wishes to dyketacular Martina Navratilova who is currently battling breast cancer.

Here's a youtube  link to "Phabulous Pholk singer Phranc" singing her short and delightful song "M.A.R.T.I.N.A." It'll make you laugh, I swear.

Personal aside. Phranc attended a PFLAG conference in SF about 15 years ago where I (along with my family) bumped into her and her parents at a little Dim Sum restaurant in Chinatown.  They were charming and my first thought was, "Oh, Phranc is Jewish!"

A wise man once said, "The Jews know two things: suffering and where to find good Chinese food."

(Public Domain image of Dim Sum via Wikipedia)

(Update: I went out into teh internets and found Phranc's marvelous website "The Cardboard Cobbler." She's got some super funny stuff there. I think I'll post a permanent link here. Whadya think?)

True Story: Pasty Man

I inherited my complexion from Danish Vikings, via my maternal Grandmother. So before I stepped outside to mow my lawn, I donned my straw fedora and tied a blue bandana around my neck to protect myself from the sun.

Ours is an old fashioned push mower so even though my front yard isn’t very large, it takes long enough to trim my grass that even with 70spf sun block, I tend to burn to a crisp.

Hence my fondness for Portland’s general lack of sunshine.

But the sun was shining and my dandelions were getting uppity, so I strolled outside with long sleeves, long pants, head and neck wear and began to push my mower back and forth.

Halfway through my task a little boy about five years old, pulled his tricycle to a stop in front of my house. As he waited on the sidewalk for his mother to catch up with him, he stared at me with that fixed gaze that children are so good at.