I just found this on the official No Doubt Forum:
Kingston James McGregor Rossdale arrives
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
May 26, 2006
Los Angeles, CA
Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale welcomed the arrival of Kingston James McGregor Rossdale, 7.5 lbs on May 26, 2006.
Friday, May 26, 2006
"Dark Therapy" by Echobelly
Here are the lyrics to an album I've just re-discovered.
High above the roof tops,
Higher than the milky way,
Slipping through the hour glass,
Shooting up the desert plain,
You are one life older than before,
But you cant stop the chill,
Now youre falling in slow motion,
Though the air is still.
If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.
You are on the outside,
Hands upon the window sill,
I am on the inside,
Carving up the hunters kill.
If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.
Cruising on a missile,
Cruising on a desert plain,
Wading through a minefield,
Wading through the monsoon rain,
Surfing on an oilspill,
Surfing on a perfect wave,
Porn upon the airwaves,
Rituals of the mating game.
If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.
High above the roof tops,
Higher than the milky way,
Slipping through the hour glass,
Shooting up the desert plain,
You are one life older than before,
But you cant stop the chill,
Now youre falling in slow motion,
Though the air is still.
If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.
You are on the outside,
Hands upon the window sill,
I am on the inside,
Carving up the hunters kill.
If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.
Cruising on a missile,
Cruising on a desert plain,
Wading through a minefield,
Wading through the monsoon rain,
Surfing on an oilspill,
Surfing on a perfect wave,
Porn upon the airwaves,
Rituals of the mating game.
If you close your eyes than I can take you all the way,
Let me close your eyes and I will take it all the way.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Songs I need to hear NOW!
1. "The Blackest Years" The Distillers
2. "Poison" Alice Cooper
3. "Cherry Bomb" Joan Jett
4. "Beautiful" Snoop Dogg
I need to get a job so I can buy more albums and expand our library!
xoxox Tragic Saturn
2. "Poison" Alice Cooper
3. "Cherry Bomb" Joan Jett
4. "Beautiful" Snoop Dogg
I need to get a job so I can buy more albums and expand our library!
xoxox Tragic Saturn
Monday, May 01, 2006
The Black Pearl
I told you he was the best husband ever! Last week the fed-ex man came to my door bearing presents. Sorry the photo is slightly out of focus. You all know now who the photographer is in the family. Anyhow, I was given a matching necklace, earrings, and ring. In the picture, I am wearing the pearl ring with my great-grandmother's wedding band. The wedding band was just sitting in my jewelry box after I inherited my great-grandmother's wedding jewelry. So I figured why not get it resized (from 7 to 4); at least it wouldn't be collecting dust. I'll try to take a better photo tomorrow.
I love you, Sean! Watch out for those water balloons!
xoxoxo Tragic
Us, two days before deployment
Here we are, the amazingly happy couple on one of our last nights together, a Saturday. It's been longer than a month now since he's been gone. One down, five to go. He's spoiled me though because he calls everyday (mostly, unless there's a storm or something) and I get emails too. How did I get so lucky to catch such a great husband?
We've been married for ten months now!
Thursday, April 27, 2006
The Quest
My husband readership may be aquainted with this particular quest. The quest for the moped. My inlaws purchased a Thai moped during the family sojourn. This decision was based on the ease of another import from Thailand made in the previous year, which was a bicycle. However, the import of an unmotorised vehicle is quite different from the (attempted) import of a moped. This became evident after two failed attempts to gain custody of said moped (the second just three days before my husband went to Iraq.) After his deployment, I inherited this task.
One week after he left for Iraq, and I'd driven to San Jose we found out that the shipping company in possession of the moped was going to beging charging us rent for holding the thing (because it was taking up valuable space for other items which had recently arrived.) Being the only member of the family unemployed, as well as the only member of the family with access to a large vehicle I decide to bear this particular cross. After driving the Beetle to San Jo on March 27th, I found myself driving back to San Diego on April 5th.
Although I have never witnessed a monsoon in person, I'm fairly sure I have an excellent idea of what one may look like because, curiously enough on both March 27th and April 5th, violent rain and wind storms would ravage California. Imagine that. Still, driving a Beetle in a pounding rain (nay, monsoon!) through California's central valley is one thing. Driving an empty cargo van through California's central valley is quite another. My first taste of the vicious wind I will face is East bound on Highway 152. The posted speed limit of 65 is wishful thinking, a joke.
Of course it got worse once I hit South bound Interstate 5. Despite my best intentions, I do not get an early start on the drive. I have to make a stop at my dad's office and pick up proof of insurance as well as a letter authorising me to operate the van. I'm concerned that I will not make it to Inglewood before the company we hired to assist us in the importation closes. I'm also concerned that if I run too late, the warehouse in Torrance will be closed as well. Once again, the speed limit is a joke. Even if the sky was not unleashing a torrent of rain down upon the unfortunate few who chose April 5th to drive to LA, I have to keep the speed down for economic reasons. One other big difference between the van and the beetle is this: the van is a gas pig. It gets okay gas mileage for a behemoth, but at that particular point in April the per gallon price of 87 octane is about $3 a gallon. This translates to an approximate cost of $85 to fill the tank completely up. So I try to keep my speed between 55 and 60, which means I am stranded behind all the big rigs in the slow lane. (As the more adventurous whiz by in the fast lane at estimated speeds of 90 miles an hour, despite billboards that warn "1,015 licenses taken here last year!". A speed violation over 100mph is a felony. Do not pass go, do NOT collect $200.)
The drive worsens still as I reach the grapevine, which is the winding route of I-5 which climbs over the mountains at a peak elevation of 4,000 feet. A blinking road sign is warning that "HIGH WIND ADVISORY: Big rigs, Trailers are not advised." In fact, it is raining so hard and is so foggy that I can barely see the 5 feet of road in front of me. I begin to worry that snow will be falling and that I will either have to purchase snow chains or rent a room just short of the summit and wait out the storm. Happily, there was no snow falling that day. That was the only break I got, the only thing that went right that day. The distance from Bakersfield to LA is given as 110 miles, but it felt like twice that. Instead of heading East on the highways tp avoid the rush hour LA traffic, I have to take 405, the San Diego freeway right into the belly of the beast.
After locating the office in Inglewood, the people who eased the import of the moped into America I have to drive around the block to find a parking place big enough for the van. I walk three blocks in the rain to pick up all of the official paperwork I will need, including a shipping list, and a packing list with the address of the final destination. (The closest port to Paulden AZ is, apparently, Long Beach!) My purse brimming with papers I make my way back to the van huddled under a violet umbrella.
The first stop went so well that I was beginning to think the rest of my endeavour would be equally simple.
This assumption was completely incorrect.
I find my second stop in Torrance simple enough. I exit the freeway on a completely random street and after making three left turns I find the street that I need. I consider this to be a stroke of considerable luck.
After parking my van in the warehouse parking lot, I make my way through a tangle of big rigs which are backing up and pulling forward, nearly hitting one another in an attempt to get into the slips. I stand in a drafty office while a secretary processed all of my paperwork behind what I assume was bullet proof glass. She types away and informs me that I have to pay $100 before the moped will be released to me. Cash. I have exactly $50 on me, and the company does not take plastic. It was 6pm and the warehouse was closing, so I trudged back to the van empty handed.
The AAA California map indicates that Long Beach is 113 miles, or one hour and forty minutes to San Diego. My empty hands and empty van are insult to injury, as it takes five hours at the neck-break speed of 15 mph to get to San Diego.
The next morning a Wednesday I wake up late (again) and call my mother-in-law about the $100 fee. She had tole me I wouldn't have to pay any money, but she authorises this fee and deposits the money into my account. The van and I suffer through another commute up 405 back to Torrance, which took two hours. I am confident because I am armed with $200 cash. I am getting that moped or will die trying.
And once again I find myself standing in a drafty office, only this time I have about a dozen burly truckers to keep me company.
You can imagine my horror when I present all of my paperwork including a power-of-attorney (all official and stamped) only to be told that the moped will be released to me after I pay the $399 in cash which is owed to the shipping company. The man in the office laughs in my face when I state that I only owe $99. He seems incredulous that I do not have $400 in cash on my person. Again I call my mother in law and inform her of the situation. We are in so deep now that there is no turning back, and she deposits the amount I need into the bank account. When I get to the ATM I learn that I have exceeded my withdrawal limit for the day, and can only take $150.
I now have on my person $400 exactly. After my paperwork is okayed and I fork over the $400, I am told to back into a slip between two big rigs.
I now have on my person exactly $1.
Since my fan is considerably smaller than a big rig I am told to pull around back by a grove of palm trees. The last piece of paperwork is signed by yours truly as the forklift approaches and the doors of the van are open.
My first sight of the moped occurrs at this moped. It is surrounded by a giant crate made of pallets. The crate is too damn wide to fit in the back of the van. Because the young guy in charge of the work crew recognises me from the day before he rides back to the main office to ask permission to remove the moped from the crate. Permission is granted.
But it will cost me $100 in cash (natch) to do so.
I am sunk.
Faced with the probability of having to try again on Thursday, I explain the situation to the young work crew. "I drove down from San Jose to pick this up.... My husband is in Iraq... I have only $1." The manager of the work crew translates my dillema into Espanol.
After I promise not to hold any of them responsibl;e should anything go wrong, four guys flip the crate on it's side while it is still on the forklift. I crawl into the van to detach the spare tire from the left side of the vehicle. Every millimeter counts. Two guys crawl into the van but cannot stand up because of their height. Two guys and a forklift stand on the outside pushing with all their strength while the other two guys are pulling with all they've got. They have to pull in and up to make it over the wheel wells that jut up in the cargo area. This takes about 45 minutes. But finally the crate is IN! I thank them profusely and feel bad that I don't have any thing to reward them with.
It took roughly three hours to get home. But I was just happy to finally have that supid moped in my possession.
Let this be a lesson to you. Unless you like cutting through tons of red tape and spending lots of money, unless you want to deal with a business run by Tony Soprano or one of his close personal friends, never NEVER import a motor vehicle!!
Good night and Good luck, Tragic
One week after he left for Iraq, and I'd driven to San Jose we found out that the shipping company in possession of the moped was going to beging charging us rent for holding the thing (because it was taking up valuable space for other items which had recently arrived.) Being the only member of the family unemployed, as well as the only member of the family with access to a large vehicle I decide to bear this particular cross. After driving the Beetle to San Jo on March 27th, I found myself driving back to San Diego on April 5th.
Although I have never witnessed a monsoon in person, I'm fairly sure I have an excellent idea of what one may look like because, curiously enough on both March 27th and April 5th, violent rain and wind storms would ravage California. Imagine that. Still, driving a Beetle in a pounding rain (nay, monsoon!) through California's central valley is one thing. Driving an empty cargo van through California's central valley is quite another. My first taste of the vicious wind I will face is East bound on Highway 152. The posted speed limit of 65 is wishful thinking, a joke.
Of course it got worse once I hit South bound Interstate 5. Despite my best intentions, I do not get an early start on the drive. I have to make a stop at my dad's office and pick up proof of insurance as well as a letter authorising me to operate the van. I'm concerned that I will not make it to Inglewood before the company we hired to assist us in the importation closes. I'm also concerned that if I run too late, the warehouse in Torrance will be closed as well. Once again, the speed limit is a joke. Even if the sky was not unleashing a torrent of rain down upon the unfortunate few who chose April 5th to drive to LA, I have to keep the speed down for economic reasons. One other big difference between the van and the beetle is this: the van is a gas pig. It gets okay gas mileage for a behemoth, but at that particular point in April the per gallon price of 87 octane is about $3 a gallon. This translates to an approximate cost of $85 to fill the tank completely up. So I try to keep my speed between 55 and 60, which means I am stranded behind all the big rigs in the slow lane. (As the more adventurous whiz by in the fast lane at estimated speeds of 90 miles an hour, despite billboards that warn "1,015 licenses taken here last year!". A speed violation over 100mph is a felony. Do not pass go, do NOT collect $200.)
The drive worsens still as I reach the grapevine, which is the winding route of I-5 which climbs over the mountains at a peak elevation of 4,000 feet. A blinking road sign is warning that "HIGH WIND ADVISORY: Big rigs, Trailers are not advised." In fact, it is raining so hard and is so foggy that I can barely see the 5 feet of road in front of me. I begin to worry that snow will be falling and that I will either have to purchase snow chains or rent a room just short of the summit and wait out the storm. Happily, there was no snow falling that day. That was the only break I got, the only thing that went right that day. The distance from Bakersfield to LA is given as 110 miles, but it felt like twice that. Instead of heading East on the highways tp avoid the rush hour LA traffic, I have to take 405, the San Diego freeway right into the belly of the beast.
After locating the office in Inglewood, the people who eased the import of the moped into America I have to drive around the block to find a parking place big enough for the van. I walk three blocks in the rain to pick up all of the official paperwork I will need, including a shipping list, and a packing list with the address of the final destination. (The closest port to Paulden AZ is, apparently, Long Beach!) My purse brimming with papers I make my way back to the van huddled under a violet umbrella.
The first stop went so well that I was beginning to think the rest of my endeavour would be equally simple.
This assumption was completely incorrect.
I find my second stop in Torrance simple enough. I exit the freeway on a completely random street and after making three left turns I find the street that I need. I consider this to be a stroke of considerable luck.
After parking my van in the warehouse parking lot, I make my way through a tangle of big rigs which are backing up and pulling forward, nearly hitting one another in an attempt to get into the slips. I stand in a drafty office while a secretary processed all of my paperwork behind what I assume was bullet proof glass. She types away and informs me that I have to pay $100 before the moped will be released to me. Cash. I have exactly $50 on me, and the company does not take plastic. It was 6pm and the warehouse was closing, so I trudged back to the van empty handed.
The AAA California map indicates that Long Beach is 113 miles, or one hour and forty minutes to San Diego. My empty hands and empty van are insult to injury, as it takes five hours at the neck-break speed of 15 mph to get to San Diego.
The next morning a Wednesday I wake up late (again) and call my mother-in-law about the $100 fee. She had tole me I wouldn't have to pay any money, but she authorises this fee and deposits the money into my account. The van and I suffer through another commute up 405 back to Torrance, which took two hours. I am confident because I am armed with $200 cash. I am getting that moped or will die trying.
And once again I find myself standing in a drafty office, only this time I have about a dozen burly truckers to keep me company.
You can imagine my horror when I present all of my paperwork including a power-of-attorney (all official and stamped) only to be told that the moped will be released to me after I pay the $399 in cash which is owed to the shipping company. The man in the office laughs in my face when I state that I only owe $99. He seems incredulous that I do not have $400 in cash on my person. Again I call my mother in law and inform her of the situation. We are in so deep now that there is no turning back, and she deposits the amount I need into the bank account. When I get to the ATM I learn that I have exceeded my withdrawal limit for the day, and can only take $150.
I now have on my person $400 exactly. After my paperwork is okayed and I fork over the $400, I am told to back into a slip between two big rigs.
I now have on my person exactly $1.
Since my fan is considerably smaller than a big rig I am told to pull around back by a grove of palm trees. The last piece of paperwork is signed by yours truly as the forklift approaches and the doors of the van are open.
My first sight of the moped occurrs at this moped. It is surrounded by a giant crate made of pallets. The crate is too damn wide to fit in the back of the van. Because the young guy in charge of the work crew recognises me from the day before he rides back to the main office to ask permission to remove the moped from the crate. Permission is granted.
But it will cost me $100 in cash (natch) to do so.
I am sunk.
Faced with the probability of having to try again on Thursday, I explain the situation to the young work crew. "I drove down from San Jose to pick this up.... My husband is in Iraq... I have only $1." The manager of the work crew translates my dillema into Espanol.
After I promise not to hold any of them responsibl;e should anything go wrong, four guys flip the crate on it's side while it is still on the forklift. I crawl into the van to detach the spare tire from the left side of the vehicle. Every millimeter counts. Two guys crawl into the van but cannot stand up because of their height. Two guys and a forklift stand on the outside pushing with all their strength while the other two guys are pulling with all they've got. They have to pull in and up to make it over the wheel wells that jut up in the cargo area. This takes about 45 minutes. But finally the crate is IN! I thank them profusely and feel bad that I don't have any thing to reward them with.
It took roughly three hours to get home. But I was just happy to finally have that supid moped in my possession.
Let this be a lesson to you. Unless you like cutting through tons of red tape and spending lots of money, unless you want to deal with a business run by Tony Soprano or one of his close personal friends, never NEVER import a motor vehicle!!
Good night and Good luck, Tragic
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
My wonderfully amazing husband!
Here's a photo of my husband and I when he re-enlisted back in October. I was so sick that day! (But my hair looks great!) And doesn't my husband look too handsome??
I love you Sean! Thanks for calling when you can!
Monday, April 10, 2006
Congratulations!!!!!!!
YayY! On April 6th Tom and Mieke Dumont welcomed their first child, a son. According to People magazine, the whole family is having a blast with their son whom they named Ace. Ace will join Mason (Adrian and Nina's son) as the second child to be welcomed into the No Doubt family. But there's still one to go: Gwen Stefani and husband Gavin Rossdale are still waiting to welcome their own child, who is expected in May or June (depending on the source.)
Once again, CONGRATULATIONS Tom and Mieke!!!!
xoxox Tragic
Once again, CONGRATULATIONS Tom and Mieke!!!!
xoxox Tragic
Monday, March 20, 2006
Friday, March 10, 2006
Dodger's 12th birthday
This Valentine's day my doggie turned 12! Alas, I could not be there to help him celebrate.
cake, his favorite prey
:) Tragic
cake, his favorite prey
:) Tragic
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Visit to the Midway
Back before the New Year, my husband and I, and one other blogger (Fuzzybear Lioness) made a visit to the Midway. We had tried to visit once before, but my little Oldsmobile began to sputter, leaving us to coast off of I-5. This slow death began around Memorial Day with a car full of passengers, when for no apparent reason, my car stalled in a parking lot.
Our second visit to the Midway was made in the Beetle, and I'm pleased to say that the drive was breakdown free. The only hitch was that I had a bad cold, complete with a cough and runny nose. Due to a childhood accident when my nose was broken in three places (and never corrected) my sinuses don't always drain as they should. It was a chilly, yet sunny day at the Embarcadero, and I found myself wishing I'd worn more layers. As I was not feeling my best, here is my concise and almost clear recollection of that day. If I hadn't felt so ill, I'm sure I would have enjoyed more of it since I'm such a history buff.
The flight deck was really cold as there was a strong wind that day. Brr! There were also some old-timers (volunteers) telling old war stories in front of different aircraft.
The "museum level" complete with cafe and souvenir shop was also very chilly. Although there were walls here, there were also many places that were open to the strong breeze. 'Brr, I could never live here' was my most dominant thought.
As we followed the tour throughout the ship we passed through various other levels, where I found myself thinking one of the following at every turn:
-It's too cold, I could never live here.
-It's too cramped in this section, I could never live here.
-It's too hot in this section, I could never live here.
-This part of the ship is too orange, I could never live here.
xoxox Tragic
Our second visit to the Midway was made in the Beetle, and I'm pleased to say that the drive was breakdown free. The only hitch was that I had a bad cold, complete with a cough and runny nose. Due to a childhood accident when my nose was broken in three places (and never corrected) my sinuses don't always drain as they should. It was a chilly, yet sunny day at the Embarcadero, and I found myself wishing I'd worn more layers. As I was not feeling my best, here is my concise and almost clear recollection of that day. If I hadn't felt so ill, I'm sure I would have enjoyed more of it since I'm such a history buff.
The flight deck was really cold as there was a strong wind that day. Brr! There were also some old-timers (volunteers) telling old war stories in front of different aircraft.
The "museum level" complete with cafe and souvenir shop was also very chilly. Although there were walls here, there were also many places that were open to the strong breeze. 'Brr, I could never live here' was my most dominant thought.
As we followed the tour throughout the ship we passed through various other levels, where I found myself thinking one of the following at every turn:
-It's too cold, I could never live here.
-It's too cramped in this section, I could never live here.
-It's too hot in this section, I could never live here.
-This part of the ship is too orange, I could never live here.
xoxox Tragic
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Another New Year
Well, here we are... another new year. 2006! Sheesh. I have to admit that out of all the holidays, I hate New Years Eve the most. I hate it more than Arbor Day, Columbus Day, or whatever other petty holiday you can think of. (Columbus Day is just too polarising these days anyhow.)
Maybe I just have a bad attitude, but more likely it's just past experiences. New Years Eve, is generally about people getting completely drunk off their asses and making promises they have no intention of ever keeping. ("I'm going to lose 15 pounds!," "I'm going to stop smoking," "I'm going to stop selling drugs.") This is my problem with the whole stupid holiday. In my own personal experience, New Years Eve marked, for five consecutive years, the most awful fights I ever had with my ex.
Our second New Years Eve together was 2000, the Millenium! The potential end of the world, and one of the worst nights of my life. I never really saw any reason to celebrate the New Year because every damn year was the same, at least in regards to the relationship. What was there to celebrate?
Last year, although with a new guy, I had strep throat, and spent the dreaded holiday in bed with a fever and almost unconscious. But this year, even though I was sick, I didn't have a fever. So I had to face my most unfavourite holiday.
I was in bed and asleep by 11:30pm, missing the ball drop and all that craziness. It's better that way anyhow.
Maybe I just have a bad attitude, but more likely it's just past experiences. New Years Eve, is generally about people getting completely drunk off their asses and making promises they have no intention of ever keeping. ("I'm going to lose 15 pounds!," "I'm going to stop smoking," "I'm going to stop selling drugs.") This is my problem with the whole stupid holiday. In my own personal experience, New Years Eve marked, for five consecutive years, the most awful fights I ever had with my ex.
Our second New Years Eve together was 2000, the Millenium! The potential end of the world, and one of the worst nights of my life. I never really saw any reason to celebrate the New Year because every damn year was the same, at least in regards to the relationship. What was there to celebrate?
Last year, although with a new guy, I had strep throat, and spent the dreaded holiday in bed with a fever and almost unconscious. But this year, even though I was sick, I didn't have a fever. So I had to face my most unfavourite holiday.
I was in bed and asleep by 11:30pm, missing the ball drop and all that craziness. It's better that way anyhow.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Best TV shows you never watched...
I blame you. Yes you! You lazy people who never give exciting new TV shows a chance. You know who you are. You're the viewer who watches the latest remix of "Survivor", "American Idol", or (god help you) that really awful show where people eat worms and drink 100 year old eggnog to win money. So I hold you responsible for the death of the following shows.
Dead Like Me
Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this promising show back in 2003:
''Dead Like Me'' begins with a renegade toilet seat breaking free from the Mir space station and plummeting to earth, flattening aimless teen Georgia ''George'' Lass (Ellen Muth). Once dead, she finds direction via a grim reaper named Rube (''Chicago Hope'''s Mandy Patinkin, pictured with Muth), who talks George into spending her afterlife collecting souls. ''We facilitate their journey, wherever they're headed,'' says Patinkin, whose reaping team includes the bubbleheaded Betty (Rebecca Gayheart) and the rough-and-tumble Roxy (Jasmine Guy). Though George is initially sullen about her soul-trolling duties, is it really any surprise that death helps her, you know, appreciate life? ''I love the last line in the pilot,'' says Patinkin, who hasn't done series TV since he left ''Hope'' in 2000. ''George is sitting in the closet, looking at the young sister she never recognized in life, and says, 'I think for me, death was just a wake-up call.''' -- Lynette Rice
This show was a real gem. It was a shame that it only ran for two seasons. I really identified with the smart-ass Georgia and her struggle to become a grown up-- in life and in death.
2. Wonderfalls
Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this show:
"The pitch must have sounded preposterous: ''There's this girl, Jaye. She just graduated from Brown, returns home to Niagara Falls, moves into a trailer park, and gets a job at a souvenir shop. Animal figurines start commanding her to do God's work, which leads to a huge revelation about her estranged sister and an emergency tracheotomy. Oh, and we want a former Canadian child star for the lead.'' The funny thing is, Wonderfalls works -- due to the charismatic and soulful performance of Quebec native Caroline Dhavernas, 25, who has the potential to be Fox's biggest (and flightiest) heroine since Ally McBeal.
EW What attracted you to the role?
CD I love that she has a philosophy degree and works in retail. It's different from what I had seen on television recently.
EW Well, how about that other sullen girl who takes orders from God on CBS?
CD Joan of Arcadia is much more dramatic, and it's quite different to talk to animals than the people she interacts with. Plus, Jaye doesn't want to help people. Helping people to her is disgusting.
EW Are you prepared if this show takes off?
CD I lived a little bit of it in Quebec -- we have our own little star system there. A show becomes really huge and no one else in the world hears about it."
This was another brilliant show that didn't even last a whole season. It was cancelled, I believe after a mere 6 episodes. You can order the complete first (alas, only) season through Amazon.com. This show was just so far out, which I absolutely loved. Again, what I really appreciated about the main character was her ennui: a grafuate from Brown who is so disaffected she works at a souvenir shop in Niagara Falls. One of my favourite episodes is "Karma Chameleon."
3.Firefly
"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand." Sweet Lord in Heaven, did I ever love this show. Here's what EW had to say:
Lordy, does Joss Whedon ever love to tell a story, spin a yarn, get off a good 'un. Along with David Chase (''The Sopranos'') and J.J. Abrams (''Alias''), Whedon does what too many feature filmmakers these days do not: entrance us with elaborate narratives in which small, precise details add up to a coherent philosophy -- a worldview.
"In the new Firefly, Whedon's messages are: Learn to take care of yourself, because no one else is going to; and be stronger, smarter, faster than the next guy/gal, or he/she will get the drop on you. The show is Whedon's daring attempt to go where men have gone before all too often: to the frontier -- two frontiers, at that.
The notion of yoking the Western to science fiction isn't original. Michael Crichton did it 29 years ago in ''Westworld'' (remember Yul Brynner's robot gunslinger?), and while I never watched ''Star Trek,'' even I know there was at least one transporting-into-the-Old-West episode. But ''Firefly'' benefits enormously from Whedon's ability to take the clichés of any genre and give them a good, hard yank.
This series is the brawling saga of Capt. Mal Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) and the crew of his ship, Serenity, on the run from a totalitarian, multiplanet regime called the Alliance. We're told that Reynolds and his rebels -- who call themselves Independents -- will accept ''any job, anywhere'' to keep fuel in their tank and food free-floating through their space capsule. This means, in the premiere, agreeing to thieve cargo for some brutish space goons led by a graying baddie with a vaguely European accent, of whom Mal says, ''He's not the first psycho to hire us, nor the last.''
Excellent: moral relativism, plus a crew member (Gina Torres) who blasts people with (I'm dating myself here, but so is ''Firefly'') a sawed-off shotgun just like the one that Steve McQueen used in the 1958-61 series ''Wanted: Dead or Alive.'' Add to that Mal taking a bowie knife in the shoulder in the first episode and self-consciously funny dialogue like ''Time for some thrilling heroics!'' -- and count me as being on board for this sucker. Grade: B+"
Sadly, this show also died a premature death. It barely ran one whole season, but you can buy the complete DVD box set from any quality techie store. Also, you can buy the big screen movie, "Serenity" that starts up after the cancellation of this unique 'verse I came to love so. If you have never seen either, I recommend buying the DVD set of the tv episodes first and then the movie. Trust me. It's far better to see a story such as ths in chronological order. (Unless your FOX network, in which case you will air the episodes out of order, and then only after the series is being cancelled, air the pilot episode.
FOX TV: Where Great TV Goes To Die!!!
(off to bed)
xoxox Tragic
Dead Like Me
Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this promising show back in 2003:
''Dead Like Me'' begins with a renegade toilet seat breaking free from the Mir space station and plummeting to earth, flattening aimless teen Georgia ''George'' Lass (Ellen Muth). Once dead, she finds direction via a grim reaper named Rube (''Chicago Hope'''s Mandy Patinkin, pictured with Muth), who talks George into spending her afterlife collecting souls. ''We facilitate their journey, wherever they're headed,'' says Patinkin, whose reaping team includes the bubbleheaded Betty (Rebecca Gayheart) and the rough-and-tumble Roxy (Jasmine Guy). Though George is initially sullen about her soul-trolling duties, is it really any surprise that death helps her, you know, appreciate life? ''I love the last line in the pilot,'' says Patinkin, who hasn't done series TV since he left ''Hope'' in 2000. ''George is sitting in the closet, looking at the young sister she never recognized in life, and says, 'I think for me, death was just a wake-up call.''' -- Lynette Rice
This show was a real gem. It was a shame that it only ran for two seasons. I really identified with the smart-ass Georgia and her struggle to become a grown up-- in life and in death.
2. Wonderfalls
Here is what Entertainment Weekly had to say about this show:
"The pitch must have sounded preposterous: ''There's this girl, Jaye. She just graduated from Brown, returns home to Niagara Falls, moves into a trailer park, and gets a job at a souvenir shop. Animal figurines start commanding her to do God's work, which leads to a huge revelation about her estranged sister and an emergency tracheotomy. Oh, and we want a former Canadian child star for the lead.'' The funny thing is, Wonderfalls works -- due to the charismatic and soulful performance of Quebec native Caroline Dhavernas, 25, who has the potential to be Fox's biggest (and flightiest) heroine since Ally McBeal.
EW What attracted you to the role?
CD I love that she has a philosophy degree and works in retail. It's different from what I had seen on television recently.
EW Well, how about that other sullen girl who takes orders from God on CBS?
CD Joan of Arcadia is much more dramatic, and it's quite different to talk to animals than the people she interacts with. Plus, Jaye doesn't want to help people. Helping people to her is disgusting.
EW Are you prepared if this show takes off?
CD I lived a little bit of it in Quebec -- we have our own little star system there. A show becomes really huge and no one else in the world hears about it."
This was another brilliant show that didn't even last a whole season. It was cancelled, I believe after a mere 6 episodes. You can order the complete first (alas, only) season through Amazon.com. This show was just so far out, which I absolutely loved. Again, what I really appreciated about the main character was her ennui: a grafuate from Brown who is so disaffected she works at a souvenir shop in Niagara Falls. One of my favourite episodes is "Karma Chameleon."
3.Firefly
"Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand." Sweet Lord in Heaven, did I ever love this show. Here's what EW had to say:
Lordy, does Joss Whedon ever love to tell a story, spin a yarn, get off a good 'un. Along with David Chase (''The Sopranos'') and J.J. Abrams (''Alias''), Whedon does what too many feature filmmakers these days do not: entrance us with elaborate narratives in which small, precise details add up to a coherent philosophy -- a worldview.
"In the new Firefly, Whedon's messages are: Learn to take care of yourself, because no one else is going to; and be stronger, smarter, faster than the next guy/gal, or he/she will get the drop on you. The show is Whedon's daring attempt to go where men have gone before all too often: to the frontier -- two frontiers, at that.
The notion of yoking the Western to science fiction isn't original. Michael Crichton did it 29 years ago in ''Westworld'' (remember Yul Brynner's robot gunslinger?), and while I never watched ''Star Trek,'' even I know there was at least one transporting-into-the-Old-West episode. But ''Firefly'' benefits enormously from Whedon's ability to take the clichés of any genre and give them a good, hard yank.
This series is the brawling saga of Capt. Mal Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) and the crew of his ship, Serenity, on the run from a totalitarian, multiplanet regime called the Alliance. We're told that Reynolds and his rebels -- who call themselves Independents -- will accept ''any job, anywhere'' to keep fuel in their tank and food free-floating through their space capsule. This means, in the premiere, agreeing to thieve cargo for some brutish space goons led by a graying baddie with a vaguely European accent, of whom Mal says, ''He's not the first psycho to hire us, nor the last.''
Excellent: moral relativism, plus a crew member (Gina Torres) who blasts people with (I'm dating myself here, but so is ''Firefly'') a sawed-off shotgun just like the one that Steve McQueen used in the 1958-61 series ''Wanted: Dead or Alive.'' Add to that Mal taking a bowie knife in the shoulder in the first episode and self-consciously funny dialogue like ''Time for some thrilling heroics!'' -- and count me as being on board for this sucker. Grade: B+"
Sadly, this show also died a premature death. It barely ran one whole season, but you can buy the complete DVD box set from any quality techie store. Also, you can buy the big screen movie, "Serenity" that starts up after the cancellation of this unique 'verse I came to love so. If you have never seen either, I recommend buying the DVD set of the tv episodes first and then the movie. Trust me. It's far better to see a story such as ths in chronological order. (Unless your FOX network, in which case you will air the episodes out of order, and then only after the series is being cancelled, air the pilot episode.
FOX TV: Where Great TV Goes To Die!!!
(off to bed)
xoxox Tragic
Books Read 2005
Well, the year is almost up. Every year, I tally up the books I have read and enter them in a list. I've been doing this since 1999, which probably makes me really obsessive compulsive.
Anyhow, Here's my (gasp!! very very short) list for 2005:
1. Reading Lolita In Tehran: A Memoir In Books by Azar Nafisi
2. Finding Serenity: Anti- Heroes, Lost Shepherds and Space Hookers in Joss Whedon's "Firefly" Edited by Jane Espenson
3. A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray
4. Witch Child by Celia Rees
5. Maus II by Art Speigelman
6. Wicked by G. Maguire
I hang my head in shame. 12 whole months and all I read were 6 books. Ack! What has happened to me??
xoxox Tragic
Anyhow, Here's my (gasp!! very very short) list for 2005:
1. Reading Lolita In Tehran: A Memoir In Books by Azar Nafisi
2. Finding Serenity: Anti- Heroes, Lost Shepherds and Space Hookers in Joss Whedon's "Firefly" Edited by Jane Espenson
3. A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray
4. Witch Child by Celia Rees
5. Maus II by Art Speigelman
6. Wicked by G. Maguire
I hang my head in shame. 12 whole months and all I read were 6 books. Ack! What has happened to me??
xoxox Tragic
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Sunday's Suck
Sundays are the worst day of the week. Sunday evenings are the worst time of the week. Because you know, you just know Monday morning is on the way.
As the Great Dylan once said, "My weariness amazes me." And so, I'm off to bed.
Happy Holidays,
love, Tragic
As the Great Dylan once said, "My weariness amazes me." And so, I'm off to bed.
Happy Holidays,
love, Tragic
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Germs suck!
arghhhhhhhhhhh
Sick again! About three weeks ago, I got permission from my boss to take October 14th and 17th off. (Yes, Tragic is a working girl now.) My plan? To fly back to good ol' San Jose and visit with the family (and of course mi perro, Dodger.) My dad and I, Firefly fans from way back, wanted to go see "Serenity" together. Although I always miss my husband when we are separated, I also had a case of home-sickness. I hadn't seen my family or SJ friends since right after the wedding. Of course I missed Pizza Fresh (The B*E*S*T pizza in the entire world) and Hukilau and Tsuguru.
My sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and little nephew are visiting from Arizona, so Sean and I have been quite busy lately. There was a haunted house, haunted hay-ride, 3-d maze, street festivals, and so forth. Last Saturday we went to the Pacific Beach Street Faire, which was very cool. (also literally, as there was much fog.) My sweetie bought me a ring with a heart shaped amber stone. I bought myself two Chinese-themed parasols which I love. To tell you the truth, the whole inspiration came from a scene right out of "Serenity", the very first two-hour episode. (This was supposed to be the pilot, but FOX executives, showing off their usual stellar stupidity, decided to air the pilot episode last-- after the show had already been cancelled.) There is a scene at the Eavesdown docks where Kaylee twirls a beautiful parasol behind her.
Anyhow, after all this, my poor husband started to feel ill on Tuesday. And then, despite our best efforts, I fell ill yesterday.
(Tragic needs sleep, to be continued.)
x0x0x0x0 Tragic Tuyen
PS. I miss you and love you more than you will ever know, my husband
Sick again! About three weeks ago, I got permission from my boss to take October 14th and 17th off. (Yes, Tragic is a working girl now.) My plan? To fly back to good ol' San Jose and visit with the family (and of course mi perro, Dodger.) My dad and I, Firefly fans from way back, wanted to go see "Serenity" together. Although I always miss my husband when we are separated, I also had a case of home-sickness. I hadn't seen my family or SJ friends since right after the wedding. Of course I missed Pizza Fresh (The B*E*S*T pizza in the entire world) and Hukilau and Tsuguru.
My sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and little nephew are visiting from Arizona, so Sean and I have been quite busy lately. There was a haunted house, haunted hay-ride, 3-d maze, street festivals, and so forth. Last Saturday we went to the Pacific Beach Street Faire, which was very cool. (also literally, as there was much fog.) My sweetie bought me a ring with a heart shaped amber stone. I bought myself two Chinese-themed parasols which I love. To tell you the truth, the whole inspiration came from a scene right out of "Serenity", the very first two-hour episode. (This was supposed to be the pilot, but FOX executives, showing off their usual stellar stupidity, decided to air the pilot episode last-- after the show had already been cancelled.) There is a scene at the Eavesdown docks where Kaylee twirls a beautiful parasol behind her.
Anyhow, after all this, my poor husband started to feel ill on Tuesday. And then, despite our best efforts, I fell ill yesterday.
(Tragic needs sleep, to be continued.)
x0x0x0x0 Tragic Tuyen
PS. I miss you and love you more than you will ever know, my husband
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Hey you with the wedding dress on, With the white chiffon blowin' in the wind...
I've returned form my blogging vacation. The past month or so has been crazy-busy for me. Along with unpacking all of my belongings in San Diego, I also had to contend with the last few details of the wedding. After waiting almost too long, I placed the order for both wedding flowers and wedding cake. I'd say 95% of my wedding stress was caused by a really mean bridesmaid of mine, whom I actually ended up relieving of her duties. (I'll write more about this later.)
The wedding was beautiful! I couldn't have asked for a better wedding. Everything went perfect (there was only ene tiny glitch in the music.) I just wish my grandfather and my best friend, Dodger could have attended.
Oh, by the way, my mom has started up a new website called: http://shadesofgreen.fotopages.com. You should check it out. ; )
xoxo Tragic Saturn (brand new wife.)
Friday, July 01, 2005
Sandbox Pin Up Challange Pic
Punk Rock Mommy has put together a Sandbox Pin Up challange for female bloggers and here's mine.
XOXOXO
Monday, June 27, 2005
Fire Is Rarely A Sign Of Imminent Safety
After my stay in San Diego, it was time for me to drive back to good ol' San Jo. It was Saturday, June 4th. I'd been back in town to move as well as to take a marriage prep class with a few other couples and the Chaplain. Friday afternoon was spent on the beach, taking it easy.
But Saturday I was headed home to doggie sit, since my dad would be out of town. That morning I woke up with a terrible kink in my right shoulder. After breakfast in bed and a hot shower, there was no improvement. I had to get going anyway. It was already 1pm, and if I waited any longer, I'd be getting home at 11pm.
I sadly waved goodbye to my fiance and climbed into my dad's behemoth of a van. After filling up the gas tank and buying some sunglasses (I'd lost my previous pair) I hit the open road. Although I had horrible visions of terrible Los Angeles traffic, the situation wasn't that bad.
Listening to mix tapes, I quickly zipped from La Mirada to the Grapevine. The radiator and all the other important parts ran wonderfully going up the mountains, although I did shift down one gear. Soon, I was cruising up the fruited plains of I-5, blaring the tape player. Earlier in the day, I'd taken a naproxen to end my hideous pain, and it was actually working.
Feeling still unfamiliar with the van, I decided not to take any chances. I pulled off the freeway at Harris Ranch (Coalinga) and refueled. Not wanting to stop again for more gas, I decide to top off the tank. I went into the snack shop to see if they had any postcards, which they didn't. I'm so used to my sedan that I was shocked, SHOCKED, to return to the van to see it had taken $56 worth of gas! I climbed back up into the drivers seat, turned the key, and merged back onto the freeway. In the distance, I saw some smoke, but it was way off on the left side of the freeway, so I wasn't worried.
Since I had so few audio tapes for this trip, I'd turned off the tape deck. As I drove down the highway, I could hear the wind pick up a bit. Being in such an unaerodynamic vehicle, I also begin to feel the wind batter the van, ever so gently. The smoke in the distance created a beautiful, if not slighty foreboding effect as the sun set. The sunset, bright sunflower yellow where the smoke had not drifted across, soon became a magnificent, menacing volcanic orange. 'If Sean were here,' I thought with a smile 'he'd be snapping away with his digicam.'
After about ten minutes or so, some smoke began to blow my way, but I wasn't really worried about it. The wind was just blowing the smoke from a distant fire in my direction, I figured. Nothing to worry about. Another few minutes went by, but I was still unconcerned even as heavier smoke blew my way. (Yet not enough smoke to hamper my vision.) As I drove on, I made out a strange shape in the distance. I was in the fast lane, or number one lane, and I could swear I something coming towards me. A few seconds went by and I changed lanes just in time to see a newish sedan speed by in the wrong direction. True, the driver had the hazard lights on but I-5 is a major artery from the Bay Area to Los Angeles.
'Holy Crap! What's up with that?' I thought to myself as the car sped along, southbound in the northbound lanes. I refocused my attention on the highway ahead of me, still wandering about the previous aberation.
About five minutes ticked by as I drove on in silence. Then, the smoke became heavy. The light gray smoke which could have been coming from some one's chimney gave way to thick, slate coloured clouds. I gently applied the brakes and turned on the headlights. I could make out the headlights of the car in front of me, for a little while. Once again, the wind picked up. I quickly sped up, and after about twenty dreadful seconds, the blue sky appeared above me.
My relief, however, was short lived. Gusts of smoke battered the driver's side of the van, and caused me to slow down even more. By this time, the red tale lights of the little Japanese car which had been in front of me are gone. I quickly checked my rear view mirror and noticed that there were no cars behind me. In need of advice, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my fiance. Surely he'd have an idea or two. Having finally memorised his number, I punch in his number, only to get his voice mail. 'Crap,' I thought. With my mind starting to shift into overdrive, I started to leave a very disjointed message. I tried my very hardest not to cry as I talked into his voice mail. The same thought kept recurring to me...
I was alone.
At precisely 7:28:54pm, I place a call to 911. Up until that moment in my life, I fortunately have never had to dial that number. (Even with all the car accidents I've been in.) So you can imagine my surprise when the phone on the other end rings 3, 5, and finally 10 times before I hear a recorded message. My sarcasm begins to kick in, 'What if a crazed gunman was chasing me?' 10 rings is an awful long time to wait. First in English, then in Spanish, that my call will be recorded and that I need to relay my approximate whereabouts. Finally, the operator picked up and asked me to explain the nature of my emergency. As I told her the nature of my problem, and relayed my location, she replied "Yes, we've had several calls of a huge wild fire in that area. The fire department is on their way. I'm almost certain she asked if I could see any flames and at that particular moment, I could not. So she told me to be careful and that was the end of our call.
By this point in time, I couldn't see anything. Blackness descended, as if someone had blind- folded me. I turned in my hazard lights and pulled off to the right hand shoulder. I didn't exactly know what to do, it didn't seem wise to keep going down the highway when I couldn't see anything. As I sat on the side of the road, I heard a 'Woosh' sound.
I turned my head to the left and saw a wall of bright orange. Given the apparent choice of driving into the unknown, or having a full tank of fuel come into contact with a wild fire, I picked the first option. As fast as my fingers could do so, I turn the key in the ignition, and shift into drive. My right foot punched the gas pedal, hard.
As I forcefully applied the gas pedal, I could hear the whine of the engine. (A V-8 engine, but one, nevertheless, with 153,000 miles on it.) In front of me, blackness is punctuated by bright orange swirls. The temperature begins to rise. It feels like I've got the heater on maximum. Sweat drips down my forehead into my eyes. I can hear the air screaming through the wings in front of the wind-down windows. Soon enough, noxious smoke begans to pour in. That's about the point when I started to cough. I felt a tightness in my chest. The wind still battered against me. It seemed like I was in a vortex. Driving in a straight line became a challenge, and the overall effect was that I was a barreling down the center of both lanes. Bright orange flashes flickered in my peripheral vision and sweat stung my eyes. I hoped with all my being there were no cars stopped in front of me, because the spedometer was maxed out at 85, with the needle actually hovering past the last numbers on the gauge. I started to cough more and thought 'This might be it.'
It's funny how fast your brain can work sometimes. In the amount of time it took to have the aforementioned thought, I remembered what it felt like to have a laser treatment. I remembered the pain, the heat of the last treatment I had. The throbbing. The burning. The blistering. And that was only half an arm. With all the force I could muster, I pushed down on that gas pedal. Hoping it would help the van carry me from painful wounds or a horrible, exploding death. Smoke is coming through the vents even though I don't have the climate control on.
After one last bright flash of neon orange, the smoke eased up a bit. I could make out traffic ahead of me and quickly slowed down and pulled into the slow lane. Traffic ahead of me was stopped.
This was about the time that Sean called me. Despite my best efforts, I start to cry, through my coughs, as we talk on the phone. Just as I thought he would, he gives me advice. Since I'm idling on the freeway with a fire nearby, he tells me to turn off the engine. As I talk to him, cars start speeding up the shoulders on both sides as the fire edges towards us in the median. A U-Haul truck blazes by me on the right hand shoulder, probably going about 80 miles per hour.
As I talk to Sean, there is still no sign of any fire department trucks.
Finally, I see one truck edging towards us in the median.
Ever so slowly, traffic begins edging forward. Sean and I say good bye. Those of us who have made it through the fire storm form a sort of convoy. We start of slowly at first, wary of smoke and flames. But after a while, the smoke is behind us.
I count my lucky stars, and, as traffic speeds up, I put a No Doubt tape into the deck. While I try to relax again, the pain in my shoulder comes back. It feels like barbed wire had unspooled in my shoulder.
Oh well. At least I didn't burn to death.
~ Tragic Saturn
(For a different version of this story, read the archives of Doc in the Box.)
But Saturday I was headed home to doggie sit, since my dad would be out of town. That morning I woke up with a terrible kink in my right shoulder. After breakfast in bed and a hot shower, there was no improvement. I had to get going anyway. It was already 1pm, and if I waited any longer, I'd be getting home at 11pm.
I sadly waved goodbye to my fiance and climbed into my dad's behemoth of a van. After filling up the gas tank and buying some sunglasses (I'd lost my previous pair) I hit the open road. Although I had horrible visions of terrible Los Angeles traffic, the situation wasn't that bad.
Listening to mix tapes, I quickly zipped from La Mirada to the Grapevine. The radiator and all the other important parts ran wonderfully going up the mountains, although I did shift down one gear. Soon, I was cruising up the fruited plains of I-5, blaring the tape player. Earlier in the day, I'd taken a naproxen to end my hideous pain, and it was actually working.
Feeling still unfamiliar with the van, I decided not to take any chances. I pulled off the freeway at Harris Ranch (Coalinga) and refueled. Not wanting to stop again for more gas, I decide to top off the tank. I went into the snack shop to see if they had any postcards, which they didn't. I'm so used to my sedan that I was shocked, SHOCKED, to return to the van to see it had taken $56 worth of gas! I climbed back up into the drivers seat, turned the key, and merged back onto the freeway. In the distance, I saw some smoke, but it was way off on the left side of the freeway, so I wasn't worried.
Since I had so few audio tapes for this trip, I'd turned off the tape deck. As I drove down the highway, I could hear the wind pick up a bit. Being in such an unaerodynamic vehicle, I also begin to feel the wind batter the van, ever so gently. The smoke in the distance created a beautiful, if not slighty foreboding effect as the sun set. The sunset, bright sunflower yellow where the smoke had not drifted across, soon became a magnificent, menacing volcanic orange. 'If Sean were here,' I thought with a smile 'he'd be snapping away with his digicam.'
After about ten minutes or so, some smoke began to blow my way, but I wasn't really worried about it. The wind was just blowing the smoke from a distant fire in my direction, I figured. Nothing to worry about. Another few minutes went by, but I was still unconcerned even as heavier smoke blew my way. (Yet not enough smoke to hamper my vision.) As I drove on, I made out a strange shape in the distance. I was in the fast lane, or number one lane, and I could swear I something coming towards me. A few seconds went by and I changed lanes just in time to see a newish sedan speed by in the wrong direction. True, the driver had the hazard lights on but I-5 is a major artery from the Bay Area to Los Angeles.
'Holy Crap! What's up with that?' I thought to myself as the car sped along, southbound in the northbound lanes. I refocused my attention on the highway ahead of me, still wandering about the previous aberation.
About five minutes ticked by as I drove on in silence. Then, the smoke became heavy. The light gray smoke which could have been coming from some one's chimney gave way to thick, slate coloured clouds. I gently applied the brakes and turned on the headlights. I could make out the headlights of the car in front of me, for a little while. Once again, the wind picked up. I quickly sped up, and after about twenty dreadful seconds, the blue sky appeared above me.
My relief, however, was short lived. Gusts of smoke battered the driver's side of the van, and caused me to slow down even more. By this time, the red tale lights of the little Japanese car which had been in front of me are gone. I quickly checked my rear view mirror and noticed that there were no cars behind me. In need of advice, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my fiance. Surely he'd have an idea or two. Having finally memorised his number, I punch in his number, only to get his voice mail. 'Crap,' I thought. With my mind starting to shift into overdrive, I started to leave a very disjointed message. I tried my very hardest not to cry as I talked into his voice mail. The same thought kept recurring to me...
I was alone.
At precisely 7:28:54pm, I place a call to 911. Up until that moment in my life, I fortunately have never had to dial that number. (Even with all the car accidents I've been in.) So you can imagine my surprise when the phone on the other end rings 3, 5, and finally 10 times before I hear a recorded message. My sarcasm begins to kick in, 'What if a crazed gunman was chasing me?' 10 rings is an awful long time to wait. First in English, then in Spanish, that my call will be recorded and that I need to relay my approximate whereabouts. Finally, the operator picked up and asked me to explain the nature of my emergency. As I told her the nature of my problem, and relayed my location, she replied "Yes, we've had several calls of a huge wild fire in that area. The fire department is on their way. I'm almost certain she asked if I could see any flames and at that particular moment, I could not. So she told me to be careful and that was the end of our call.
By this point in time, I couldn't see anything. Blackness descended, as if someone had blind- folded me. I turned in my hazard lights and pulled off to the right hand shoulder. I didn't exactly know what to do, it didn't seem wise to keep going down the highway when I couldn't see anything. As I sat on the side of the road, I heard a 'Woosh' sound.
I turned my head to the left and saw a wall of bright orange. Given the apparent choice of driving into the unknown, or having a full tank of fuel come into contact with a wild fire, I picked the first option. As fast as my fingers could do so, I turn the key in the ignition, and shift into drive. My right foot punched the gas pedal, hard.
As I forcefully applied the gas pedal, I could hear the whine of the engine. (A V-8 engine, but one, nevertheless, with 153,000 miles on it.) In front of me, blackness is punctuated by bright orange swirls. The temperature begins to rise. It feels like I've got the heater on maximum. Sweat drips down my forehead into my eyes. I can hear the air screaming through the wings in front of the wind-down windows. Soon enough, noxious smoke begans to pour in. That's about the point when I started to cough. I felt a tightness in my chest. The wind still battered against me. It seemed like I was in a vortex. Driving in a straight line became a challenge, and the overall effect was that I was a barreling down the center of both lanes. Bright orange flashes flickered in my peripheral vision and sweat stung my eyes. I hoped with all my being there were no cars stopped in front of me, because the spedometer was maxed out at 85, with the needle actually hovering past the last numbers on the gauge. I started to cough more and thought 'This might be it.'
It's funny how fast your brain can work sometimes. In the amount of time it took to have the aforementioned thought, I remembered what it felt like to have a laser treatment. I remembered the pain, the heat of the last treatment I had. The throbbing. The burning. The blistering. And that was only half an arm. With all the force I could muster, I pushed down on that gas pedal. Hoping it would help the van carry me from painful wounds or a horrible, exploding death. Smoke is coming through the vents even though I don't have the climate control on.
After one last bright flash of neon orange, the smoke eased up a bit. I could make out traffic ahead of me and quickly slowed down and pulled into the slow lane. Traffic ahead of me was stopped.
This was about the time that Sean called me. Despite my best efforts, I start to cry, through my coughs, as we talk on the phone. Just as I thought he would, he gives me advice. Since I'm idling on the freeway with a fire nearby, he tells me to turn off the engine. As I talk to him, cars start speeding up the shoulders on both sides as the fire edges towards us in the median. A U-Haul truck blazes by me on the right hand shoulder, probably going about 80 miles per hour.
As I talk to Sean, there is still no sign of any fire department trucks.
Finally, I see one truck edging towards us in the median.
Ever so slowly, traffic begins edging forward. Sean and I say good bye. Those of us who have made it through the fire storm form a sort of convoy. We start of slowly at first, wary of smoke and flames. But after a while, the smoke is behind us.
I count my lucky stars, and, as traffic speeds up, I put a No Doubt tape into the deck. While I try to relax again, the pain in my shoulder comes back. It feels like barbed wire had unspooled in my shoulder.
Oh well. At least I didn't burn to death.
~ Tragic Saturn
(For a different version of this story, read the archives of Doc in the Box.)
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