We fight for the fine places we make in this world

This blog is where I come when I feel a soapbox moment happening, or to loose an idea or to rage over some miniature catastrophe with tongue firmly planted in one cheek while the vodka drenched olives hold tightly to the other. And then last week happened, and so I don’t feel much like camping out as Cayman Thorn today.

There was little Nichole Kristine Cable, who we came to know inside the desperate hours of her too short life. She only got fifteen years because a sick bastard lied her away from the house, and there’s no way you can wrap your head around this case without wanting to scream. My initial reaction is to curse the door that our connected world has opened. But I realize it’s not that easy. I realize that the worst laid plans of people do not concern themselves with convenience so much as they concern themselves with doing bad things, no matter the avenue they have to take to get there.

My reasoning self was justified and my scream stifled when I witnessed the rolled up sleeves I found across WordPress during the search for Nichole. Bloggers pressing their re-blog button, and showing me why a virtual neighborhood can matter every bit as much as the white picket fence variety. Hey, the only sense this world really makes, is that which we give to it.

What happened in Oklahoma is a humbling reminder that we don’t have the last word, despite our top of the food chain existence. Because the truth is, Mother Nature’s name is on the deed and we’re just renting. The proof of this was supplied by pictures of a town that went the way of a bad science fiction ending. And so it was heartening to see all the help that moved in just as swiftly as the tornado which had taken so much away. Cayman Thorn and I would agree on one count. Give.

I’ve never been to Colorado, but I have a solid education on the place thanks to a gal who possesses more back story on the Rocky Mountains than Sacajawea. Susie Lindau is a renaissance woman of the hottest order, with a To Do list that runs chapters long and never goes stale. She’s a one woman band, whose wild ride blog treats readers to heaping spoonfuls of love on everything from skiing to tennis to Christmas card making.

Susie shared her reality with all of us in a post this week. And I can’t go somber on this, because if I do, she’s going to fly in simply to kick my ass and fly back out. And there is nothing worse than having to pick someone up at the airport just so they can kick your ass.

Kicking ass is what Susie is going to be doing to the C word. Seriously, you mess with the bull, you get the horns AND Colorado, AND Danny. And all of us.  If you need more backup than that? You’re a shit screenwriter rehashing an ’80s cop show who’s hogging up all the Wi-Fi at your 7-11, so nuke that Hot Pocket and take the Asst Managers job at Target already!

As for backup, we got your back, Susie. All of us, from here to there and every other single place in between.

We love you. Much and always. For teaching us the one simple thing in a world gone mad.

Love wins.

A Liebster Award Nomination? (White) Schmoking!

Liebster AwardThe Mistress of Mayhem, Di Jones  has nominated me for a Liebster Award. If you’ve never heard of the award, it is presented to bloggers who have a curious fascination with beer caps. Okay, that’s not entirely correct.

Anyways, Di Jones did me good with this nomination and I am shouting back a ‘lil love her way as a result.

And I will do so in just a moment. Right after I house clean the last couple days ‘o news. Don’t worry, this won’t take long . . .

New Pope is a Pup Jorge Mario Bergoglio is 76 years old. That’s young enough to get carded in his business. Seriously, it’s nice to see a Latin American take power without the United States talking sanctions. Although . . . I would’ve gone with Tony LaRussa. A Cardinal for 16 years with 3 World Series appearances and 2 titles. Not to mention, he witnessed un miraculo in 2004 when the Red Sox won it all.

Heat win 19th straight- El Diablo owns the NBA, Pope Francis.

Okay, that’s all the news that mattered to me over the last few days. Hey, I’m the reason cable news was invented, what can I say?

Now I can get to Di Jones. And just so’s you know? She’s someone worth getting to, in a hurry. Di was born in Liverpool, a city known for mop topped blokes of some repute. She lends her talents to that lineage with a remedy that pleads on the where you came from and where you’re going romance of our workaday world.

If you’ve been busy throwing dice against the wall and hoping for a double smack, then try out this Chick Lit Lovely, because she has the ideas down. Hot and smoochy. Go see for yourself.

As per the acceptance of this award, I gotta volunteer 11 random facts about myself, answer a few questions posed by the presenter and then recommend others for nomination.

11 Random Facts about me:

1- Cayman ain’t ‘ma name
2- I was born in Fort Apache, the Bronx
3- I once interviewed Kelly McGillis
4- I never kill bugs, unless my life is hanging in the balance
5- Lifelong claustrophobic who is slowly winning back my space
6- Cooking is my passion
7- Vera Farmiga has a HUGE crush on me (Okay, that’s a lie. I just wanted to read those words . . . )
8- Ann Curry was once confused for my wife. (Future Post)
9- No. I’m not rich or famous
10- I wish I was rich, but not famous
11- I never slept with Kelly McGillis. Or Tom Cruise. If I had, I would be rich AND famous

Now for those questions posed by said presenter . . .

If you could choose to be any animal, which would you choose and why? I would be a Bengal tiger. Men would fear me, women would take countless pictures of me.

Which book have you read more than any other, and why? Life of Pi because it nourishes.

If you could choose one person to totally erase from history, who would it be and why? This guy

Tell us about the project you are currently working on and one that you are planning to start.  It’s a story about the choices me make and the ripples they create. Next up? Hmm, I have several possibilities.

If you won 30 million dollars in the lottery, what would you do? I would buy a new pair of pants. To replace the pair I ruined when I pissed myself upon learning I won 30 million dollars.

What part of your body do you like the most and which do you like the least? I’m comfortable with all parts. No thanks to beer.

What is the thing you are most scared of? Guy Fieri’s success.

If you could swap lives with one person for a day, who would you choose? Mr. Vera Farmiga.

What is the one thing that you cannot do without? Love

What is the one thing you are most proud of? One year off the smokes on April 22nd.

If you could choose anywhere in the world to live, where would it be and why?  I would choose to live in peace. And yes, I believe it’s an actual place.

As per the nominating part of this show . . .

I’m taking my lead from Di Jones on this by nominating a single blogger for the Liebster. This nomination strays from the dictates of said award, but come on, when does Cayman Thorn toe the line on anything.

I am not following the rules, or the wishes of the nominated blogger, in this instance. Khamillion marches to the beat of her own drum when it comes to blogging. I blame her for keeping me here when I was ready to move on from blogging.

Khamillion keeps me grounded to the here of now that we blog our sphere of thoughts off of. She’s no nonsense, fashionable and real as all get out. And I want her to post that Liebster badge on her blog, if only ’cause it would be a simpatico pledge the two of us could amble on in the tangential melody of a technological neighborhood.

I love ya Di for the nomination, and the crushed ice humor and the thoughts you word into high heeled being. And I love ya K, for that salsa grab we bent virtual elbows to back in the day and the college football education you lent me and the mad idea that a gal from Alabama and a Bronx born boy can share Gibran in that same sweet way.

And . . . I love the lot of you, and that means to say all my WordPress peeps. For reading me, for commenting, for keeping on. You guys are the orange juice of my day- that healthy shot of a good smiling way. You rock my mood into a disco kinda place.

‘Cause when you’re dancing, it means you’re doing something right.

Reality Writes

reality-blog-award4amWriter nominated me for a “Reality Blog Award”, which is ironic considering as how I blog under a pseudonym. Lucky for me this award doesn’t hold my identity crisis against me. And even luckier still is having a writer such as 4am call me out for something she does so very well: Which is to write in the real way of things.

This award is all about tapping into the world you’re moving through and extracting the flavor through your keyboard. It’s not easy, picking through the remains of the day and making sunshine of it, but it’s a thing us writers are willing to die trying.

This 4am chica knows of this try that defines a writer’s struggle to hit oil, and it’s a very cool thing to have her hanging around Drinks Well. She’s a damn good writer who owns a company of words that work really hard and whose profits run bonus time for her readers. Sorry, I tend to go heavy on the metaphors when I dig the regulars.

Now, there are five relatively serious questions which accompany this award, and here they is . . .

1- If you could change something what would you change?- I would make the McRib sandwich fat free.

2) If you could relive one day, when would that be?- The day my son was born. And the day my daughter was born. I know . . that’s two. Sue me.

3) What one thing really scares you? Something terrible happening to either of my children. (This was 4am’s entry, to which, as a parent, I’m quite seriously in agreement on).

4) What one dream have you not completed yet and do you think you will be able to complete it?- Building a tree house.

5) If you could be someone else for the day, who would you be?-  I’m sticking with the guy who got me to here.

Okay, as per the rules of being nominated, I’ve gotta single out a few nominees who keep things real. And since I cannot help myself, I’m gonna channel my best New Englandah in the doing. Hey, I was born in Fort Apache the Bronx and I grew up loving all things Yankees, while 4am is a New England girl who probably believed in the Yaz before Santa. Whenever these two sides can come together without weapons being involved? It’s a very, very cool thing.

So heeaah then, tha nominees as selected by me, Cayman Thawn.

Susie LindauShe’s a wild ridah. Evidently in Colorado, that’s legal. This bloggah is big on photagraphs that have nuthin’ ta do with mugshots. It’s different.

Guapola He’s looking to catch the next big wave, ‘cos in New Yawk . . that’s legal! He’s also a Mets fan, and all I gotta say ta that is . . it took me eighteen yeeahhs to get ovah ’86!

Adventures of a Dog MomShe’s got maw dogs on hah blog than the Yanks have in thea lineup. And thea much cutah.

The Wish Factor– Guat is from Sothan Californiaw, which must be nice considering as how I’m freezing my ass off currently. If she wasn’t such a good writah, I’d be throwing a Grady Little hex on hah.

aFrankAngleHe loves cahtoons, as do I. He reads The Onion which is like made up news . . ya know, sowta like tha Bawstan Globe. Oh, he’s a Reds fan, and all I gotta say ta that is . . it took my pop twenty nine yeeahhs to get ovah ’75!

Fantasy FurnaceHe covahs spots tha way Damon used ta cover centah field faw us. Until the Yanks signed him and he cut his haaih, the bum.

And here’s one for you, 4am. Thanks much, and write big. And of course, keep it real.

Guatacular is officially a word I just made up

Blog of Year AwardGuat passed along some love last week that I’m just now getting around to thanking her for. If I worked for the Postal Service, such prompt attention would fetch me a raise. In bagels. Which . . . is pretty damned good.

This mad scientista of The Wish Factor nominated Drinks Well for “Blog of the Year”. Methinks she was dipping into some chocolate liqueur when she did so, but I’m not launching an investigation or anything. Seriously, I’m honored to be thought of in such good stead by a writer I enjoy immensely. That’s better than bagels, any day of the week.

So the rules of this, well . . I have no idea because I’m so lousy with rules. The management at Adam’s Mark Hotel in Philadelphia can attest. In my defense, I thought painting the walls and installing a full size fridge would only increase the value of the guest room.

I’m just fooling, I know enough about these blog nominations to get me arrested. But I prefer stringing together a top five.

Top Five Rules For This Nominee

1- Mention the person who nominated you. That’s cake.
2- Do not mention Charlie Sheen. Oops . . . dammit! See what I’m saying about rules?
3- Go heavy on humor to hide fact you’re too lazy to read rules.
4- Promise not to make any more football predictions. Ever.
5- Nominate others.

If you have any questions or comments about this list, feel free to email me at caymanthorn@yahoo.com.  If you have any criticisms, email John Boehner.

Guat? She’s a So Cal chica whose stories are liquid photographs. She comes from good people and she wakes up every morning to the idea that today is gonna be her day to rock the world. On those days when the world tries punking her, she gifts herself some chocolate for the religious purpose. And inside the times when she gifts us the struggles and successes, we’re the better for having glimpsed her untethered moments.

My only critique on LA’s finest, is that she tends to forget how cool it is to have the Pacific Ocean for a backyard. At least, this Northeastern boy thinks it is. But she never forgets how cool it is to be on the J-O-B as mom. She’s a damned good one, if you ask me. And since this is MY acceptance speech, you can.

Now . . I’m gonna nominate as many peeps as I please. I’m not sure how long this might take, so grab a beer and put your feet up. Hopefully, you do that every time you read this blog.

Here then . . my nominees, and why I read them.

Susie Lindau– She’s a ‘wild ride’ of pictures and great stories
Guapola– To catch his wave of great writing and killer tunes
Adventures of a Dog Mom– She’s got an inner foodie thing happening
aFrank Angle– His travels and his cartoon love.
Fantasy Furnace– He’s one half of my sports guy tandem
Steven Jeffries– He’s the other half
Simone Benedict– For introducing me to Deadeye
4am Writer– This New Englandah is a wicked good writah
Petal Pusher– For Zen captures and good karma quotes
Khamillion– She’s got style, humor and smarts. Brent Musburger can tell ya, Auburn girls rock
Veronica: Pajama Thief– Short or long, she delivers velvety goodness
Break It Down Pete– For his tell it like it is’ness
Katrina Perkins– So’s I can say ‘I knew her when . .’

Thank you for attending the 1st annual “Greatest Blog in the History of Blogs thanks to Our Father who art in Tennessee, Al Gore” . . . and we’ll see you next year!

Yanno, all kidding aside, I probably should copyright that blog award.

Anyways, thanks for humoring me once again. But even more than that, thanks for taking the time to read up on my place. You are all much appreciated for the wit, wisdom and fun you bring to me whenever I put up my feet and roam.

As for you . . . Guat, thanks for the laughs, the poignant moments, the inspirational quotes and the momentary lapses of reason that always happen inside that place called parenthood. I probably told you this already, but I do believe it bears repeating.

He would be proud.

Hey . . . this is what I think of ‘yall . . . (Why am I still speaking Alabamanese?)

 

If you’re going to wish upon a star, bring friends

Mark Twain once wrote, that partaking of a McRib sandwich is akin to eating shoe leather cause you’ve got a hankering for salt. Okay, he didn’t write that. But he might have if he was living inside the age of the Big Gulp.

That was my opening salvo in a McRib post I was writing a couple nights ago, before rushing my mother into the ER. She was experiencing the onset of a stroke, but by the grace of the Cosmos bookkeeper, we got it in time.

Time is the most valuable commodity we have in our everyday lives, and it’s platinum squared when it comes to strokes. But for my mother calling me up rather than sleeping on it the other night, may have been the difference between driving her home from Thomas Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia yesterday evening. And not.

There are a bunch of instances where the better safe than sorry theorem ain’t worth abiding by. Stuff like skiing, Vegas, story arcs, Martinis or falling in love. But when it comes to heeding the warning signs of a possible stroke, there’s no room, or time, for chance.

I don’t want to leave you hanging on my McRib review, so here’s the unabridged version: It sucked. Funny thing too, since the McDonald’s website lists 101 reasons why you should eat a McRib. As far as truth in advertising is concerned, it’s a big fat fib slathered in barbecue sauce. A fatter fib than Jay Z’s 99 problems, even.

It’s my fault, really. Since my culinary sojourns over this bachelor’s holiday consisted of extra strength coffee, bucco sandwich experiments and date night with the golden arches.

Anyways, maybe it was a bad year for indeterminate meat products, I don’t know. All I know is that I went from super sizing my meaty outrage to a super sigh of relief over how these past few days have played out. And I wanted to say thank you, to everyone reading this on the other end of the line.

My post “Good Thoughts” came from something my mother said to me. She simply asked me to keep good thoughts, and since I wasn’t ready to share with those who were within my arm’s reach at that particular moment in time, I came to a place I knew I could count on every bit as much.

In a world full of crazy, it’s nice to have a place like that.

Addictive Blog Award Acceptance Speech (Mwah Rating)

The lovely and talented Guat over at The Wish Factor has nominated me for the Addictive Blog Award. I’m pretty certain the only reason she did so was to keep me from giving her shit about her LA Dodgers extended winter vacation. Okay, that was rude, even for a Yankees fan. Sorry Guat, I was rooting for your Dodgers. It’s been too long since a Dodgers-Yankees tilt in October.

But I digress. This here is about the Addictive Blog Award, and Guat. What to say about the girl who dreams in chocolate?

Plenty.

She’s a SoCal Gal with a chef’s flair for marrying flavors together in her blog posts. She owns spunk, brings the funk and takes absolutely no junk, from anybody. She’s the orange and yellow spiked hues that crank up your starkly ‘same old daily planner. The smiles she provokes linger, the dreams she shares possess hold and the words she bungee jumps off of (literally and figuratively) are creamy catapults into sublimity. And the best part of it? She nominated me for an Addictive Blog award, when it rightly should be the other way around. That’s coolness, squared.

Since this award is about all things addictive, I thought I would share a few of my every day addictions with you just for kicks.

Chris Nolan Flicks . . . The Miami Dolphins . . . Zombies . . . Clark Shoes . . . Irish Girls . . . Running . . . Kissing  . . . Mangoes . . . Tennis . . . October Baseball . . . Iced Coffee . . . Hot and Sour Soup . . . Peppermint Altoids . . . Black Cats  . . . York Peppermint Patties . . .  Documentaries . . .

And as per the quid to the pro, here are a few peeps I find pretty addictive, and who I’ma nominatin’ . . .

Fantasy Furnace and Steven Jefferies– Forget the 4-Letter Network. These guys do sports right.
Susie Lindau– A literary Rocky Mountain high.
Guapola– Good men are easy to find if you’re reading here.
Adventures of a Dog Mom– She’s a dog person with an inner foodie going on.
Rowland Jones– I think we’re related. I’m the better looking one, but don’t tell him that.
Katrina Perkins– When she goes A-list, I figure, I can call in this favor? Hmmm.
Veronica: The Pajama Thief– The name alone should lure you in. But her word of the day is what gets me.

So . . . Miss Guat of Wish Factor fame, thank you for being a rock star on my concert schedule. You had me at “I’m a Pat Riley fan . .”, but you didn’t stop there. It’s not in your DNA to stop, ever. And that comes from the man you often post on, su padre. To which I can only say, I hope my little girl grows up to be just like you.

Mwah.

Isn’t He Lovely? You don’t have to answer that . . .

When I learned that I had been nominated for a “Lovely Blog” award, my first thought was Jesus, I don’t have a thing to wear!

As it turns out, I don’t have to wear anything. I mean, anything lovely . . . I don’t have to wear anything lovely.

The rules of this thang are as simple as the squeegee. I share a few facts about myself, after which I get to nominate some bloggers.

But before I get to that, I must unmask the culprit to these shenanigans. ‘Twas the lovely ‘lil Viking, Guat, from over at The Wish Factor , who nominated me for this award. She’s a writer with kick, a triathlete with ups, and a Kings fan with the last word on Lord Stanley’s best promise. After which, she introduces you to the so much more of her life that keeps me coming back time after brilliantly worded time.

I should commence with the proceedings. Fully dressed, of course.

Things about Cayman Thorn . . . .

. . . It’s not my real name.  

. . . Tennis is my current ‘go to’ sport.

. . . My favorite movie of all time is Godfather 1 and 2 (Seamless)

. . . My all time least favorite movie is Godfather 3 (Shameless)

. . . I literally bumped into Andie MacDowell at Mandalay Bay in Vegas back in 2005. She was in town for the Country Music Awards. We excused each other in unison, exchanging smiles as we walked on. For about 5.8 seconds, I had Andie MacDowell’s full attention. Books have been written on less.

. . . I think the construction of a Cuban sandwich to be a romantic trespass, but . . .

. . . I am currently in the midst of Vegetarian Summer. And loving it.

. . . My daughter is my BFF.  

Okay, now to the good stuff. Here are my “Lovely” nominees. And I calls ’em lovely for the plain simple fact that I look forward to them. When you can look forward to a person’s words, it’s a lovely place to find yourself. Indeed.

Simone Benedict

Susie Lindau’s Wild Ride

The Petal Pusher

Khamillion

Fantasy Furnace

Guapola

(Programming Note: More Phineas here.)

And now, a tune from a Broadway classic I probably have seen a thousand times if once. In keeping with just how lovely I am feeling.

A New Years list of thank you

What? It’s time already?

Wow. 2011 seemed to get lost quicker than an IRA entrusted to the tender loving care of Bernie Madoff. Anyways, here are a few of the things I’m thankful for. I know, that’s Thanksgiving, but I don’t think I posted one of these back then . . .

I’m thankful that the NBA is back. I’ve been a fan ever since I saw Magic Johnson at the Garden. I’m thankful for baseball and its unscripted magnificence. All’s I know is if I would’ve written Game 6 of last year’s World Series as fiction, I would’ve been laughed out of any office with a fat nameplate.

I’m thankful for shooting stars . . and delicious kisses . . and a Martini done up just the way I like it . . and Altoids . . and a perfect cup of coffee . . and naps with the cat . . and a book that’s almost finished . . and comfortable shoes . . and road trips with the kids to anywhere . . and sitting down to an episode of Mad Men . . and good walks . . and movie dates . . and a fantastic meal with family . . and the laughing that can’t help itself . . and love.

On the blog front . . .

I’m thankful to Break it Down Pete for, well, breaking it down in the most real of ways . .  I’m thankful to Carmen’s Atlanta for gifting her readers with the eyes of a young woman ready to take on the world . . I’m thankful to be on the band wagon with I’m on the Bandwagon . . I’m thankful for the amazing captures over at Internal Solitude of the Restless Mind . . I’m thankful for the reminders of just how colorful this world is that are there for the getting at Khamillion . . I’m thankful for the peaceful blanket of words I wrap myself in over at Kvennarad . . I’m thankful for the thought provoking walks in the woods I take at Omphalos Cafe . . I’m thankful for Sara no H and her fantastic family circle of thoughts . . I’m thankful for Simone Benedict, and I hope she comes back soon . . I’m thankful for Movie Blog 8 and his well beyond his years take on cinema . .

And then there’s Rowland Jones and his mercurial moleskin. I’m thankful for your posts and your sketches and your music. And as for Petal Pusher, I’m thankful for your stories and I’m thankful for your magical eye and the brilliant captures it produces.

I’m thankful that I get to read your takes on the world. I’m even more thankful I get to call you my friend.

Cayman Thorn’s Christmas Thank You

Spent the day with the sisters. They are hard at work on a relationship lost and found again- a relationship worth its weight- to them and to us. I’m hoping the girls make it, because they are my dynamic duo. In a world bereft of people to look up to, I have mine for good.

The holidays achieve many great things. Today’s accomplishment came in the form of tossing back tequila love mixes at two in the afternoon. And laughing with the family that matters most in the world. Lest I fool you into believing otherwise, I don’t go maniac on my mixology. I’m quite responsible with it, truth be told. Outside of weekends and mixers, I’m pretty humdrum. My strongest solution being green tea and a quick fix read when the alarm is set for earlier than I’m comfortable with.

It was nice to have nowhere to go and nothing to do for an afternoon. Tossing back- albeit, still responsibly- with the idea that the world was in that here and now place that gives the very to the merry. It was fat with “Remember that time?” conversations that stretch and prosper. A big and fantastic meal. And a football game squeezed in with the sound down.

To be anchored to a place such as that. It’s the gift.

I’m gonna go wrap up Christmas presents, plugged in to my standards for the night- from Miracle on 34th St and finishing with A Christmas Carol. I’ll light up the tree and throw the cat some fun loving ‘nip.

This post is a thank you to all the readers at this virtual bar. I’ll have a more advanced thank you list waiting for you next week. For now, I’m hanging my favorite Christmas song under this blog-post tree.

You rock. And Merry Christmas.

Put the world to rights . . as we surely can

Writing long has never been a problem for me. I can go forever on the spells and witchcraft of five thousand words hard, with plenty of cranky vowels at the ready for caulking up those well meaning consonants.

I am currently at halftime of a Saturday night movie marathon I thought into being thanks to an undulating set of raindrops current and promises of more to come. I’m not feeling as giddy as I wanted to be feeling, thanks to the fact I only had two Heineken fridge mates at the ready for my night long battle with zombie movies.

But that’s okay. The pizza delivery did me well and the laughs are terrific and the nightmares are still miles away from blastoff.

So before my daughter comes in to get me so’s we can watch more dead guys rip ass on humanity in the modern day equivalent of spaghetti bible song, I have to send a shout out to a couple of bloggers who have mattered more to me than I could ever really put into fit words.

RJ and Petal?  This one’s for ya.