Navajo Shortcuts

My husband Alex is Navajo.

The Navajo Nation is the largest Indian Reservation in the United States. It is also a very beautiful place. Alex has about 200 relatives who live there and we go to visit some of them at least every couple of years.

We usually make Gallup, New Mexico our "base" for the Rez trips. There is a hotel in Gallup that we love called the "El Rancho". It was built during the time that Hollywood was making a string of Westerns and it has a lot of history. We usually get the "Presidential Suite" (named that because Ronald Reagan stayed there when he was acting in Westerns). The hotel's lobby is gorgeous, but the rooms are a little run down. It's owned and run by Navajos.

The El Rancho is a pet friendly hotel. The Navajo hotel manager did comment "Those aren't dogs, those are wolves!" when we walked in with Harry and Honey. It's especially nice because we can eat our meals at a big wooden table in the lobby and let the dogs curl under our chairs while we have dinner. Or we can enjoy cocktails in front of a big fireplace while the dogs snooze.

We always rent a big Hummer because Alex insists we need an off-road vehicle for the Reservation. (And we like to show off; Navajos love Hummers!) Sometimes we pick up a bunch of Navajos going back to the Rez after a night in town and pile them in back with the dogs. These guys are funny and appreciate not having to take the long, long hike back home. They are all very amused at the Navajo guy with the blond wife.

Every time we go, Alex wants to take the unpaved "Indian Roads" and we always get hopelessly lost. It's a very big area and one can get very lost when one insists on taking "Navajo shortcuts". We've run out of road, been stuck in the mud, nearly turned our vehicle over, and pretty much abandoned all thought of ever getting back to civilization while we are visiting the Rez. It's all high adventure!

Sometimes we find Alex's aunts, uncles, cousins, and sometimes we don't. This trip is never really about the destination but about the journey. When we are somewhere else, I am much more inclined to be nervous when Alex starts talking about a "Navajo shortcut". God knows where we might end up. When we are on the Rez, I feel like we can never truly be lost.

Is That A Gun In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?

This is what shows on a TSA screening x-ray.

I don't think I want an x-ray like that. Oh, I think it's probably not that intrusive, but I still don't like being exposed to any radiation as I doubt it's good for me.

I don't like being hijacked or killed either, so I'm not knocking the use of extreme measures. Still, I'd rather be patted down.

I've been patted down by a female police officer while assuming "the position" on the hood of a car. It really wasn't that traumatic in itself. The part that was a little traumatic was being on the side of the freeway when it happened.

Short story. Guy I was carpooling with was black. We were in an area where Driving While Black is suspect. Got pulled over for expired tags. The car was impounded. We were both searched for contraband and weapons, but the Highway Patrolman who pulled us over had to call for a female cop to pat me down. It was a queer experience actually.

My husband had been deployed for a year to the Middle East at the start of the Iraq War. I was not in the mood to put up with this kind of nonsense. Eventually, after filing a formal complaint, I got an apology. Well, no harm, no foul.

Still, being patted down in private would be okay with me, particularly if she's cute. But, on the side of the road, not so much.

A Walk On The Wild Side

When I was nineteen, I was married and living in an apartment complex in Mountain View, California. I met a girl at the swimming pool one day, and we became friends. Cathy wasn’t married, but she and I had a lot in common. We were the same age and we both loved to read. We both worked in sales, and were both from San Francisco.

Cathy told me she was going up to the City to see a friend the next day and asked me if I wanted to come along. It was about an hour’s drive from Mountain View to San Francisco, and she said she’d love to have company for the ride. I quickly agreed to go along. My husband worked long hours and I was usually bored if I was home alone. Cathy told me her friend was a girl she knew from high school who was now working as a prostitute. I absorbed that information slowly and then thought, “Wow! How cool is this?”

I decided that I wouldn’t mention the details to my husband John. I was fascinated and intrigued and really looking forward to meeting this amazing person. My only ideas of prostitutes were from movies—Belle De Jour with Catherine Deneuve, or Irma LaDouce with Shirley Maclain came to mind. I really wasn’t sure exactly what prostitutes did exactly. I mean, yeah, they had sex for money, but was it just normal sex like my husband and I had? Or for that matter, did we have normal sex? There was just so much information that could come from this nineteen-year-old girl named Melissa who was working in the absurdly adult field of prostitution!

I dressed very carefully the next morning and applied my make up with an expert hand. I wanted to look my best! I wanted to make a good impression on the mysterious and glamorous Melissa. On the ride to the City, Cathy told me that Melissa had a black pimp named Joe. (Oh my God! This just gets better and better!) I was buzzing with anticipation over the whole escapade!

We pulled up in front of a run-down looking apartment building in the Tenderloin District of San Francisco. This was not a nice neighborhood. When we went up to the front door, it was open and various people were loitering in the lobby. They were not people I wanted for neighbors. As I followed Cathy up the two flights of stairs, I began to wonder if coming here was the best idea I ever had! The place was so run down and dirty and the people all looked like the dregs of society. What in the hell were we doing here looking a little like a team of Jehovahs Witnesses?

Cathy knocked at the door of Melissa’s apartment. A fairly heavy-set blond girl in a dirty babydoll nightgown opened the door to us and said to come on in. She had apparently been sleeping when we arrived and had smeared mascara around her eyes, and her face was puffy with sleep. I was having trouble getting my mind around the fact that she was nineteen. She looked a bruised forty, literally and figuratively. Her arm was badly bruised as was her leg. Cathy asked her what happened to her and Melissa told us that a cop had raped her and beat her up the night before. I was looking at her dirty feet with the chipped polish and thought that no cop in his right mind would touch this girl. (Yeah, I was naive all right.)

We stayed about an hour and then Cathy asked Melissa to get dressed and we’d take her out to lunch. I am embarrassed to admit how much I did not want to be seen in public with this person. I was so relieved when Melissa declined and said she just wanted to get back in bed. I was somewhat taken aback when she said to me, “If Joe saw you, he’d snatch you up in a minute!” Oh God! Get me out of here! I no longer wanted to meet Joe the pimp. I didn’t want to be “snatched up”. I wanted to go home!

What I expected to be a fascinating adventure was nothing but a terribly depressing and sad situation. It’s nothing like the movies.

Playing Dress Up - Part 1

Honestly, is anything more fun?

A couple of years ago, my sister and I dressed up like hookers to go over to a drug dealer park and look for the drug "Oww".

(Yes, it's a made up drug. And yes, it is a made up park.)

We donned fishnet tights, stiletto heels, and hot pants along with a pink wig for me and a green wig for her. I had completely forgotten that we were having a furniture delivery that day. The delivery men with the couch might remember us.

I have kimono's and sari's for different occasions. But I also have police (don't ask) and military uniforms, nurses uniforms, as well as a nun's habit. I also have a maternity top and a foam rubber pregnant belly complete with the protruding navel.

I used to play dress up when my kids were small. They would join in the fun too. Then grandkids care along. My grandson Cyrus was fixated on Batman when he was little. I would dress Cyrus up as Batman when he was about 3.

I of course accompanied him as Cat Woman. (We went out that way too, much to the horror of my daughter.) I would tie a pillowcase to serve as Cyrus's cape and let him wear a watch cap of my husband's. Cyrus was very pleased to be seen as Batman by all of our neighbors! And I made a darned good Cat Woman if I do say so myself.

I have always loved dressing up. I probably will not stop doing it either.

The Lady,The Stolen Dog,The Recovery

Helen is 80 years old. On October 30, she was walking her dog, a six-year old, six pound Yorkie named Deuce, at two in the afternoon near her home in Alameda.

Two young men approached her and one simulated having a gun. They grabbed her purse, and then to add insult to injury, they grabbed her dog. Helen had been quiet until they grabbed Deuce and then she started screaming "Don't take my dog!" Her hand was cut trying to hold on to his leash.

Neighbors heard her cries and ran out and chased the two purse and dog snatchers to their car about a block away. The thieves escaped, but one bystander did get the make and model of the car along with the license plate number.

One of the perpetrators was caught the next day. He said he had let the dog out in a park in the City of Stockton, about 40 miles away. The other thief has not yet been caught yet.

Alameda is an island community and relatively small with a population of about 70,000. We have an unusually large police force though. And we have very little crime. This incident was publicized all over Northern California.

On Tuesday, November 9th, a woman in Stockton was approached by a homeless couple and offered a beautiful little Yorkshire Terrier for $20. She gave the couple a $20 and took the dog home. That night on the local news, she saw the story of Helen and Deuce and put two and two together. She called the police.

Deuce had fortunately been "chipped" and was positively identified as the kidnapped dog. He was returned to his owner and his home the next day. Alex and I both had tears in our eyes when we saw Helen and Deuce on television last evening being interviewed. Helen's relief and joy were so touching. And Deuce looked very happy to be back with his person.

I saw a white haired lady at the shopping center today with a Yorkie. I ran after her and asked her pup's name. It was Deuce. I hugged her and said how glad we are all that he is back home. She was smiling from ear to ear. I petted Deuce and he was smiling too.

When you are older, your dogs become like your kids. I am so relieved this lovely woman got her best friend back. I told her I had two dogs, and don't know what I would do if one of them was taken.

I didn't add that this would be most unlikely. They are both big dogs and only friendly if I tell them to be friendly. They are both very well trained with hand signals. They even know how to show their teeth on command.

I would probably tell punk-ass kids to go ahead, take my purse, just reach for it! Oh, and grab the leash while you're at it. Come on, just a little bit closer! You can do it! Oh, relax, they are just smiling at you! Relax! Just a little bit closer.

Dining Dilemma

My husband Alex and I go out to dinner a couple of times a week. I like it when he calls and says "Don't start dinner. Let's go out."

We have a wide variety of dining choices in our relatively small town. We have Thai, Cambodian, Indian, Mexican, Chinese, Afghan, Korean, Vietnamese, as well as the usual Italian, Mediterranean, and California cuisine offerings.

We have a favorite restaurant called Pappo's. It would probably be considered California cuisine, with a French influence. Pappo's opened about 3 years ago and we have been eating there about twice a month since it opened. The place features all organic, locally grown produce and vegetables, high quality meats, quality affordable wines, and a nice varied menu, as well as sleek surrounds and a very polished staff. Although Pappo's is a little more expensive than other restaurants in Alameda, I have always felt it was worth the extra expense.

When I go to a restaurant for the first time, I never complain or criticize the food or send anything back. I figure if I don't like it, I won't go back, but you give a place a try. When I go to a restaurant where we eat all the time, I will send something back to the kitchen that is not prepared to my liking.

I am always quiet in my conversation with the wait person. I explain why I don't like the meal, and they either replace it or if I say "never mind", they take it off our bill. My husband Alex cringes when I do this. Now, to be clear, this has occurred at Pappo's twice in 3 years. So I am not a chronic "take it back" syndrome person. Also, keep in mind, I am never unpleasant about asking to have something returned.

Still, I feel you are doing a restaurant that you frequent a disservice not to return a piece of chicken that is overcooked and stringy, or a soup that has way too much salt. I would much rather let a restaurant "make it right" for me and continue going there, than to have to find a new "favorite" place.

Alex disagrees. He feels like you eat it or don't, but you never complain about it, no matter what. I've seen him request a "well done" hamburger that is brought to him bloody. He eats it. I've seen Alex order a glass of red wine, but he will drink the white wine they bring him and never say a word.

At home, he has no such problem because I cook everything to perfection. (Or I toss it in the trash and call for a pizza.) I think Alex worries that restaurant staff might do something unpleasant to his food if he complains. At home, I might do something unpleasant to his head with a cast iron frying pan if he complains so he never does.

Men Never Make Passes At Girls Who Wear Glasses. Oh Really?

My almost 18 year old grandson went to a prom last year with a very cute girl who rocked a pair of glasses even in their formal prom picture.

I think I was a little surprised that the girl left them on for their photo. I asked my grandson, Cyrus, about that and he replied "I love girls in glasses!". When I asked him why he loves girls in glasses, he said "...because they look so sexy, and smart too. And there's just something about eyes behind a pair of glasses that are intriguing."

I guess this doesn't really surprise me that much. This is not the first time I've heard a guy express his preference for girls who wear glasses. My husband wears glasses. I think he looks great in them.

I think the thing with glasses may be that moment when someone takes them off. That act in itself can sometimes can be very sexy. In fact, I think I've always kind of liked guys in glasses. (But that could also be because if they wear glasses, they do not have perfect eyesight, therefore, I'm going to look better to them when it counts!)

Maybe it's because when someone takes off their glasses they are showing you a vulnerable side of themselves. I don't think I'd have the same reaction to someone taking off a wig or a toupee though, or someone pulling out a set of dentures.

The thing with taking off glasses is sort of like seeing someone undress in a way. It has an intimate feeling to it. I love watching men take off ties and unbuttoning shirt sleeves to roll them up. Why I find that sexy, I don't know, but it is.

I am a total make up whore. I never leave the house without it. In fact, since I was about 15, putting on my face was something I just "do" every day. Oddly, I've had men I've known who liked to watch me take off my make up and found it very sexy to see me with none.

(Weird, huh? But there are men who find it sexy to see a woman cut up a turnip or plunge a sink, so go figure!) With the no make up thing, since I always wear it, I guess it's sort of an intimate thing to see me without.

And don't we all like seeing something a little "intimate" once in a while!