Monday, October 17, 2011

Getting to the Bottom of Things

Recently, my ass has been on my mind. (Okay, I've heard the joke about the fly and the windshield, so let's not go there. LOL) The reason I've been contemplating my rear end has more to do with how uncomfortable it is on my current desk chair than any off-color humor. At least this time around.

It may well be new chair time, which has led me inexorably to Google. Everything seems to lead me to Google these days, but that's another blog for another time. Searching "desk chairs" produced the usual plethora of totally boring, nondescript chairs that sit in front of all our desks at one time or another. Pah, I thought. Not for me the mundane cubicle sit-upon. No sir. My butt is worth more than Staples special clearance.

And so it began. The Viking woman in me that loves iron breastplates and voluptuous curves rather fancied this one.
It has certainly got personality, style, and might well inspire me to write some amazingly realistic erotic romances featuring Thor, a bunch of shaggy oarsmen, lots of drums, a massive horn or two of mead and a few women who should know better than to mess with any of 'em.  But...ouch. My butt wouldn't be able to tolerate the lack of padding for long enough to whip off a novella. So it was onward.

Now this one has its merits, for sure. Cuddly, comfy and certainly not lacking in padding, what could possibly be wrong with it? As long as it didn't baaaaa at me I figured I was looking at something that whispered my name. Then it hit me. Yeah, it might whisper my name...just as I was dozing off, cradled in all that lovely wool. Sigh. Pass on the barnyard bottom warmer. (Hold that one in reserve for the winter though. Some of those Nor'easter blizzards...)

Here's one, I thought. Interesting, not run-of-the-mill, for sure. The color was a tad ...intrusive? But what the heck. I'm a bright and cheerful kind of gal and this one would certainly remind my butt to be happy. Even bouncy now and again. Of course...nothing in my entire house is blue...not even the water in the toilet bowl. (Freaks me out.) So bye-bye to this one.

My search continued; I haunted office supply houses, elegant furniture showrooms, foreign design locations and places I didn't even know had furniture, let alone used it.  This one caught my eye, since I figured it was about as strange a chair as I'd ever seen. The problem was that no matter what these darn things looked like, I couldn't create a virtual bottom to plonk down on the cyber image and see if it "fit". You know that feeling...the rare bliss of finding a chair that cradles your buttocks like you wish a lover's hands would. Or might, if the diet ever manages to knock a few pounds of cellulite off 'em the way you want. On reflection, nope. This one doesn't qualify under lover's hands in any way, shape or form.

Well, it's functional. Freaky, probably as uncomfortable as sitting on a concrete launch pad for hours on end (pity the Shuttle) and costs more than the gross national product of several small nations. It would fit better in a glass and steel high rise office building full of hedge-fund advisors (or empty offices where there used to be hedge-fund advisors) than it would in my living room and oh...I do have a laptop, but I work more on my desktop. Sorry. Bye bye to you too.

And long last... love!!!! Can't you just feel the comfort? The soft caressing cushions soothing my spine? My butt wouldn't even know it's on a chair and my legs would be as comfortable as they are in my recliner. It rocks, too, although how that helps with typing, I'm not so sure. I could put my monitor on the stand and since I have a remote keyboard, that could rest on my thighs. I could nap, write and possibly meditate - all without leaving this amazing piece of art masquerading as a functional furnishing.  Um...drawback? It's a "concept" piece. Sigh. Once again I've tumbled head over heels for something that isn't real.  Sort of like the time I decided I wanted glass slippers when I grew up. I never took into account arches, ingrown toenails or the fact that glass is slippery. Once again the cruel cold hand of reality has bitch slapped me - this time on the ass. The one that's a bit sore after sitting here and writing this blog, not to mention surfing around Google for a couple of entertaining hours.  Oh well. Somewhere out there is the right chair for me. Until then I'll go to fallback plan A.

Large cushions!!!

Happy sitting,


WHISPERS IN THE DARK - with S.L. Carpenter - Decadent Publishing, October 28th
ANDREW CLEESE AND MS. LYON - coming soon from SK Private Label Publishing

Thursday, October 6, 2011


Sometimes I see life as a road map. I see my road, and it's grown from a footpath to a multi-lane highway as my family's roads joined mine.

Then there are the roads of friends - intersecting, crossing, partnering - sometimes staying alongside my road for many years, other times veering off toward directions of their own and away from me.

But twice in my life there have been roads that profoundly affected mine - without any interaction whatsoever. One was John Lennon's road - the other belonged to Steve Jobs.  So many parts of my life were orchestrated by John Lennon's music. My first date; my first kiss; my initial introduction to a new home in a new country. Lennon sang the songs that I danced to as I traveled down my road. When he passed away, the road closed. Other highways came close to mine after that, but none hit that perfect bit of asphalt which ran smoothly alongside me for many years.

Yesterday, the other road closed.

I didn't know Steve Jobs; his road never intersected with mine. But the amazing vision and consequent technologies that he developed while streaking down his own interstate - those changed me and the way I think. I moved to Apple products a few years ago...a holdout and (in my son's view) a bit of a dinosaur about the 'net and my computational abilities. Finally getting lured into an iMac, the world expanded for me and shortly thereafter I realized I was now part of Apple's iWorld, with my iPod and iPhone, which were quickly followed by my MacBook Air and my iPad. 

I grew to realize I'd sipped from the legendary cup containing Apple Koolaid; that I was now enveloped in the warm embrace of the Cult of Jobs and loving every fascinating twist and turn and new concept that flowed from that amazing man's brain with stunning regularity. I added links to my home page - to Macworld, to  the App store, to all kinds of other bits and bobs that attract us members of the Apple congregation. And I came to rely on those wondrous conferences streamed from Cupertino. I drank up the statistics and waited - with a gazillion other people - for those magic words "Oh, and one more thing..."

Steve Jobs' passing was not unexpected, but it was accompanied with a tremendous sense of loss for all of us who shared his "Apple Experience". No matter what your opinion of him, his visionary brilliance was undeniable. He's one of the few men who leaves a legacy involving the words "changed the world", because the revolutionary iPhone truly did just that. It was recently chosen as the one device that has has the most impact on our world in the last one hundred years. Even if you don't use one, the cell phone you DO use owes a lot to Steve Jobs and Apple.

So now my road is moving on, past the "ROAD CLOSED" sign over Steve Jobs' highway. I'm feeling very moved at the tributes I'm seeing, and I mourn his loss with everyone. His family has my heartfelt and profound sympathies, because certainly their loss surpasses anything we could imagine. I doubt we'll see anyone quite like him for many years. He defined one-of-a-kind.

Which is why, today, I am unashamed to admit I'm i-SAD. And I'm also unashamed to admit I shall be pre-ordering the 4S tomorrow. Thanks Steve. I'll miss the sound of your wheels on that road near mine.