the beauty salon

Do you close your eyes when you are at a salon getting your hair washed?

What are you supposed to look at as you sit in the chair, facing a mirror, having your bangs snipped?

Do you have to make small talk?

Does everyone feel guilty when they tell their hairdresser that yes, in fact, I do buy my shampoo at the grocery store, and no, I don't use products on my hair?

hortative

hortative \HOR-tuh-tiv\ adjective

: giving exhortation : advisory

Example sentence:
Amy suspected that her hortative letter to her son about the values of hard work and education would be ignored in the swirl of freshman partying, but she sent it anyway.

What I learned in the month of May:

Missing someone physically hurts. It’s in the background of every thought, it’s the on the tip of your tongue thought, it’s always there and when you do forget it for the briefest moment, it’s a surprise when it comes back.

Watching your best friend mourn hurts. It's palpable pain. And yet, you know that what you feel is only the vaguest hint of how she hurts.

People can surprise you.

Love and compassion shows up from the people you don’t suspect, and is sometimes absent from the ones you counted on.

Friendship, real friendship, the kind that grew over years, is rare and strong and amazing.

The people in your lives connect, interconnect, and web together for a support that may not be visible but is constant and durable.

Life can be pretty shitty at times.

I am thankful, grateful, blessed, luckier than I knew for the friends in my life (and for my family)

entropy

One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.
- AA Milne

Turgid

I mean really ... what a word:


Dictionary.com/Word of the Day Archive/turgid: "Word of the Day for Wednesday May 10, 2006

turgid \TUR-jid\, adjective:
1. Swollen, bloated, puffed up; as, 'a turgid limb.'
2. Swelling in style or language; bombastic, pompous; as, 'a turgid style of speaking.'"

maybe they can find my sanity, keys and my innocence

FBI: Tip on Jimmy Hoffa prompts search

Teamster boss last seen July 1975 at a Michigan restaurant

(CNN) -- FBI agents and local police were searching a Michigan horse farm Wednesday for the remains of former Teamsters union leader Jimmy Hoffa after receiving a tip about his disappearance, the agency said.

The search was being conducted in Milford Township, 30 miles west of Detroit. Police from nearby Bloomfield Township were assisting the FBI agents.

A federal law enforcement official speaking on condition of anonymity said the search is for Hoffa's body.

Aerial footage from the scene showed at least 15 people outside a barn, most of whom were digging a rectangular hole.

The agents and local police were looking for "evidence of criminal activity that may have occurred when the properties were under previous ownership," FBI agent Daniel Roberts said in a news release.

"The search warrant is based on a lead which is one of numerous leads received through the years following the disappearance of Mr. Hoffa on July 30, 1975," he said.

John and Deb Koskovich have lived on a neighboring property since 1985. When they saw the men digging next door, John Koskovich asked them what they were doing.

"They just said they were executing a search warrant," Deb Koskovich said.

John Koskovich said there have been reports over the years that Hoffa may be buried in the area, but "we just thought it was just another one of those crazy rumors," he said.

Hoffa was last seen at Machus Red Fox restaurant in Bloomfield Township. He was reportedly there to meet Detroit mob street enforcer Anthony Giacalone and New Jersey Teamsters official Anthony Provenzano.

Hoffa believed Giacalone had set up the meeting to help settle a feud between Hoffa and Provenzano, but Hoffa was the only one who showed up for the meeting, according to the FBI.

Giacalone and Provenzano later told the FBI that no meeting had been scheduled.

The FBI said Hoffa's disappearance could have been linked to the union boss's efforts to regain power in the Teamsters after he was released from prison.

After serving time for jury tampering and fraud at a federal penitentiary in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, Hoffa was pardoned by President Richard Nixon on December 23, 1971.

Nixon included in the pardon a condition that Hoffa "not engage in direct or indirect management of any labor organization" until at least March 1980.

Hoffa was 62 at the time of his disappearance.

In May 2004, authorities in Oakland County, Michigan, removed floorboards from a Detroit home and found blood that they thought might be linked to Hoffa's disappearance. Milford Township is in Oakland County.

Authorities went to the Detroit home in 2004 after a biography of former Teamsters official Frank Sheehan stated that Sheehan shot Hoffa in the home, just beyond the front door.

Investigators ruled blood found in the house was not Hoffa's. The FBI has a sample of his DNA.

Sheehan, who was considered a confidant of Hoffa's, died in December 2003. Provenzano died in 1988 after being convicted in another murder case and Giacalone died of kidney failure in 2002 at age 82.

Hoffa's son, James P. Hoffa, is the current president of the Teamsters.

My Talented Friend

My friend Sage is ubertalented. Visit her website, be amazed by her art. I know I am.

The L (Brown line: Wellington to Adams/Wabash) vs The Subway (N/R/W 8th St to Times Square)

Sun. Windows, a view.

looking for the horses on Orleans St.

Crossing the river.

Things I miss when riding the subway.

Stop all the clocks

The kindest person I will ever meet and a dear friend passed away last week. The W. H. Auden poem has been on my mind all week...


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong'

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.