My family has two dogs and two cats. Over the years we’ve had several pets (Bernice, Sam, Katie, DooDoo, Squeaker the cats; Nelcie, Lucy, Phyllis, Estelle the dogs), but this bunch is sort of the last generation of “family” pets. “Family” meaning “animals that our daughters at one time were responsible for and somehow Mom and Dad are now their caretakers”. Pawly and Buddy the BadDogs came by way of my sister, Jeremy the EvilCat used to be mine, and Baby Kitty the BabyKitty got put in a tree near the family home and, well, he eats boxes so we decided to keep him around. Neither my sister nor I can claim responsibility for that one, so the sentence before last was actually kind of a lie.

Anyway, this entire post is an excuse to show pictures and brag a little about these little furry siblings…

Pawly is asleep, and as usual I’m bothering her. She actually extended her paw to push me away but didn’t protest when I decided to give it a little squeeze. This AKC registered black labrador retriever’s official name is Elizabeth’s Shadow Pawly, and she is 12 years old. Nowadays she spends most of her time sleeping as all old labs like to do. Say the word “cheese” though, and she’s suddenly a puppy again. In her younger years, Pawly would play fetch for hours if she could, and if a tennis ball was unavailable she’d bring you a pine cone. Last year I taught her to “SPEAK!” and then went back home to Oregon, and now every time you offer her a bone she barks whether you ask her to or not. An amazingly intelligent and loving animal, Pawly is the dog we’ll talk about for the rest of our lives.

Baby Kitty saw me approaching to take this picture, and this is how he greeted me. If only I could include the cooing, meowing, and purring. This cat is about five years old… typing that out felt very weird! He likes to be scratched really, really hard all over his body and loves to have his tail pulled. If left alone, Baby Kitty will sink his teeth into all of the paper products he can find and yank all of the thumbtacks out of your cork board. He announces everything, from his entrance into a room to his selection of a spot to sit, with a distinctive breathy meow. Though Baby Kitty sounds like a total pain in the ass, his soft fur and new-kitten smell make all of those little fang holes in the mail worthwhile.

We’ll talk about Buddy and Jeremy next time…

By the way, there’s a new album in the works on the Photos page.

I’m a Metallica fan. I know. I know. Every piece of hatemail or comment accusing me of being a corporate rock whore is well deserved. After all, everyone has a right to an opinion, and I welcome the conversation. HowEVER, I feel that my love for METALLI-F’n-CA is just! So, to all you haters I’ll preemptively respond with a virtual smack on the shoulder and toothy grin:

“Thank you for sharing! Now, kiss my ass. XOXO, Nyco.”

Now, with that little bit of housekeeping taken care of, let’s talk about heavy metal. I generally don’t prefer it. Metal occupies a spot in my musical schema that is comparable to that of a Tootsie Roll in my delicious chocolate schema:

“Would you like a piece of delicious chocolate?”

“Why, yes! I would love a piece of delicious chocolate!”

“Great! Here’s a Tootsie Roll.”

“Ummmm. O-okay, sure.”

That kind of thing.

So why Metallica? It has nothing to do with their musical genre, however ambiguous it has been over the years. It’s not James Hetfield’s melodic growl or the masterful guitar work (honestly, I could live without Lars’ slightly-better-than-average drumming… but he gets props for being fast); rather, it’s the fact that they released an album at just the right time in my life. I’m sure if you all look back on those awkward teenage years, a soundtrack will accompany all the memories. Metallica’s “Load” is that for me.

Yes, “Load” is not generally considered heavy metal, especially when compared to their latest release, “Death Magnetic“. And I love “Death Magnetic” because it’s more than Tootsie Roll music; it’s proof that Metallica has evolved into a musical quartet with purpose, power, and a distinct voice. At the same time, I believe I have done the same. Put simply, Metallica and I have grown up together, and their musical output is an extended metaphor for the past decade of my life.

“Load” and “Reload” were the products of a loss of direction and thus Metallica meandered into realms not generally touched by heavy metal bands. They recorded a cover album (”Garage, Inc.“) and even went symphonic with “S&M“. And I’m sure all the heavy metal faithful shook their heads and thought Metallica had gone the way of Led Zepplin and the Eagles (both of whom went acoustic and now play out their individual careers in less than rock ‘n roll fashion). But then they found themselves again with a defiant “St. Anger” that seemed to say “Hah! Daddy’s still got it!” Unfortunately, I didn’t like “St. Anger“. Every time I tried to listen to it I felt like I was being bitched at. I thought they were trying too hard to be, well, HARD. And I thought Metallica and I were through, because Momma doesn’t like it so rough.

I didn’t even see “Metallica: Some Kind of Monster“. Me! The decade-long Metallica fan. I skipped it thinking it would be nothing more than a one-night stand with an ex who would only leave a note on my pillow the next morning.

But, we’re all human and love like mine can only be suppressed, not squashed. When a friend sent me a link to the latest music video, I watched and listened skeptically. The video, though a little on the corny side with the whole wounded soldier bit, struck me as a throwback to epics like “One” and “The Unforgiven“. I was tantalized at the idea that Metallica may have returned to, and possibly even improved upon, that golden sound that made them so amazing back in the 80’s and early 90’s.

Despite initial trepidation, I can safely say that Metallica and I have found each other again with “Death Magnetic“. It’s delicious, dark, and heavily peppered. Like this. I highly recommend it to any fans of rock, who I hope can let bygones be bygones. It’s not easy, but this album is worth it.

I screamed bloody murder. Or, at least that’s what Jed says.

Monday morning I walked out onto the back porch to water my dahlia plant, noticing that all the while a squirrel was barking furiously. It wasn’t unusual. Many mornings we’ve woken up to his, or others of his species, clucking at this or that. It’s actually pretty cute… A series of staccato Donald Duck-like “BURK! BURK! BURK!” vocalizations. And they come in series of 5 or 50, depending on the agitation level.

Living on the third floor of an old Victorian means dealing with all the tree-top dwellers, as well as other curious urban fauna. They all don’t get along very well, tend to straddle the line of invasiveness (though one could say that the squirrels, jays, gigantic moths and raccoons were all there long before us), and have a nasty tendency to show up in my peripheral vision at the worst moments.

So as I righted myself after emptying an entire coffee decanter into the flower pot I took notice of the angry squirrel’s location–in the nearest tree, and facing my direction. And he was still BURK!ing and flicking his tail angrily and bobbing up with every ferocious quack. I thought, “Is it me?”. No way. I’ve been charged by a very large and very silent squirrel while hanging clothes out to dry, so if I was the focus of this tree rodent’s aggression he probably would have jumped me at that point. Besides, it was his tirade that woke me up that morning. Whatever was pissing him off was out there before I arrived and was either next to or behind me.

Naturally I took a look around, and at that moment came face-to-face with the offending party. It was a cat with piercing green eyes and a poofy charcoal coat of fur that seemed to black out the rising sun when he exploded off of his perch. As soon as our eyes met he lept into the air in a cloud of hisses and fur and limbs and then went sliding scratching hissing down our very steep roof toward the second floor. After clearing the storm drain he bounced off of an awning, onto the metal spiral staircase, and slid scratched hissed his way into hiding.

Somewhere in there I had emitted a startled “Ah!” that wrenched the normally comatose Jed out of his morning snooze, and as I gasped and chuckled I heard him struggle upright and sleepily yell “Huh? Wha? Nyco? Are you okay?” Of course he has to say that I screamed bloody murder, right?

Fast forward to Friday morning. Jed was out front, waiting to meet our guests and I was inside doing some last minuted tidying up. I figured that he’d locked himself out when my phone rang, but once I answered he cryptically said “Hurry up and come outside. I have a friend you ought to meet.”

And now Wilmot the Stray knows that he doesn’t have to hang out on our roof anymore. Unless he wants to.

If I could afford to take the time to write out all that has happened this week, I promise you, sweet internet reader people, that I would. But I can’t at this moment. Instead, I offer you three new albums of Photos (also a few fresh additions to the PDX at Random set) and lots of virtual hugs and kisses and whispers of promises to be back soon. Soon, darlings…

Everyone remembers where they were when it happened: When almost 3,000 Americans lost their lives in a matter of minutes. For no good reason at all. And we shuddered at the thought of being in New York City at that moment–how if we were there we probably would have thought the world was ending.

The news came down along different channels; for me, it was a phone call from my mother as I was just about to walk out the door for Biology Lab. She sounded terrified. She told me to immediately turn on the television. She wished that I was home, because she was afraid of me being so far away in that moment.

I watched the second tower fall on my little 13″ screen.

No time for a shower that morning, because I’d been up late playing Counter-Strike and as a result had grossly overslept. I hadn’t even the time to put on a bra, and I never ever went out of my dorm room without one. For a moment, as I sat gaping at the pictures and listening to my mother recap what had transpired, I thought about getting into my car and driving straight to my parents’ house. But then I remembered that if I missed another Biology Lab I would automatically receive a “C”.

Now I see a lot that my shock wouldn’t allow me to perceive. In hindsight, the situation was ironic: Just hours before, I’d been running around as a terrorist in a video game. In hindsight, I’m lucky that the biggest thing I had to worry about that day was the fact that I was braless in public for the first time since elementary school. In hindsight, being angry at the TA for not letting us out of Lab to watch the news was really silly. Canceling Lab would have been giving in.

Please read this. And realize how lucky we all are to be alive; to remember; to be sad. My father says that every second you live is one that you never get back. When I think about the folks who didn’t have a choice about how to spend their remaining seconds, I am incredibly humbled.

Jed masterfully incorporated a Flickr plugin into my Photos page, as Flickr is the client I use for video and picture management. I LOVE how my sets are displayed on my Photos page, which is why I encourage all of you to not bypass it and go straight to Flickr. From now on I’ll be sure to mention in my blog posts if there’s new candy in the Photos department, at which point I advise all of you to drop everything! and click! the Photos link before your brains explode! with anticipation! Then mosey on over to Flickr (once you click the title of a set you’d like to view, look for the link at the bottom of the thumbs table) to get the full effect of the captions, titles, and picture quality. If you need help, please comment on this post. Thanks for playing, everyone!

Oh, and there’s new Photos today… ReadySetGO!

I got hit by a car this afternoon.

She was driving a VW sedan, teal in color, and pretty shiny new. I remember vividly because its nose was sticking out of a bank’s driveway, waiting to turn right onto busy NE Belmont. There was a ton of traffic, so I felt it safe to continue on my way westbound and pass in front of her without causing her to miss a chance to take a lane. Just as I got into her path, a brown VW bus abruptly slowed down and made like he was going to turn into the bank’s parking lot, opening up an opportunity for VW sedan to make her move. The only problem was the fact that I wasn’t clear of her front bumper and she, talking on a cell phone, hadn’t looked both directions before taking her foot off of the brake pedal.

Thankfully I was carelessly dangling my Camelbak Better Bottle beside my left knee. Teal VW sedan with lady talking on cell phone rolled into me, bumping the bottle against the side of my leg and causing me to stumble to my right. I whipped my head around to make eye contact with her, and she dropped everything as she put her hands over her mouth and looked at me in horror. Still on my feet and wanting simply to get out of the way of all the cars, I extended my hand toward her with palm up and shot her a wide-eyed grin. If she’d tried to engage me to apologize, I would have said what was on my mind: “I’m just glad you didn’t hit the gas pedal.” Not only that, but the water bottle saved me from hobbling away with a sprained knee.

Please, everyone, when you are about to make a move in traffic, just put the mobile phone down and take a moment to look around you. The incident today wasn’t my first brush with a motorist who wasn’t paying attention: A few months ago a man in a Honda about ran me over as I stepped off the curb on NW Everett. The “walk” sign was on, I was almost clear of his front bumper, and he decided to go ahead with his right turn. I lept, literally, out of his way. Sure, he hit the brake as soon as he saw me jump, but if I hadn’t reacted I would have been on the ground. In his case I was lucky that he was driving a manual and I heard him press the accelerator before engaging first gear.

It’s not just distractions that seem to be causing these close calls. When people are making right turns, they are so busy looking for traffic that they forget about the pedestrians. Then they see a hole and oftentimes accellerate recklessly to squeeze into it. Sure, pedestrians should be mindful of drivers and probably hesitate if they haven’t made eye contact, but it’s ultimately the driver who is responsible for operating their vehicle safely. After all, pedestrians have the right of way, especially if they are crossing legally.

I am always very careful when out walking in PDX, but somehow I feel that today’s incident isn’t the last I’ll experience. Apologies if this post seems a little dry, but I’m dead serious on this. Please, drive and walk safely!

America!, we need to talk. Up until very recently I had a lot of faith that America! would do the right thing and end our relationship with the type of politician who promises you a romantic steak dinner but then texts you while you’re waiting for him at the restaurant table saying that LOL he forgot because he got really into this game of beer pong with the guys and OMG that promise of a steak really got blown out of proportion so please try to forgive him and maybe he’ll ping you through Facebook next week. The America! I knew would have egged that bastard’s SUV and distributed a viral video depicting his expert nose picking skills. But now? I feel like we’re all “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me three times, shame on the media.” I’m afraid that the wrong people are going to win this November, and what’s worse I think we’re all apathetic enough to simply shrug our shoulders and say “Eh, it’ll all be the same load of crap no matter who we elect.”

NO! America! Don’t roll over in submission like this!!!

Sure, Obama and McCain are kings of spin. All politicians are. And yes, we’re sick of spin. Sick! How many more times can we stand to hear another generic yet politically correct statement that is all pomp and no substance?! How on Earth do we get past this cycle of hysteria over inconsequential things like how much a person’s suit is worth?! Well, I’m sad to say that we’re a little far along in this campaign season to abruptly end the spin, but I am hopeful that after this election some progress can be made. Hey, look on the bright side: There’s no national hysteria over a fictional monster like the Monkey Man that harassed India back in 2001. Oh, wait. We did just have a Bigfoot hoax that garnered intense media coverage. Nevermind.

Where was I? Oh, yes…

Obama spins change! and hope! and how he possesses a very modern view of society! McCain spins security! and values! and prosperity through tapping our own resources! Worthy buzzwords. We see Obama as the liberal, McCain as the conservative. Many people will consider those generalities and deem them enough information on which to base a vote. But I implore you, America! to look deeper than that. Consider the men themselves; the things they’ve said and done, beyond the rhetoric and campaign slogans.

Here is an unbiased portrait of John McCain. Lengthy, but worthy: “McCain’s Party”, by Connie Bruck

Now, an article about Obama, by the same publication: “The Conciliator”, by Larissa MacFarquhar

Both politicians have their merits. McCain the warrior and guardian of good old-fashioned American! pride. Obama the unlikely poster child of the American! dream.

Wow, tough pick, right? Not really, as far as I’m concerned.

I present for you an article that is deeply unsettling for me, and sums up my reasons for fundamentally distrusting John McCain: “Maverick Vs. Iceman”, by Jonathan Chait

I also hope that America! will take into consideration McCain’s choice in confidants. We all shook our heads in dismay over the likes of Donald Rumsfeld (now branded a Warmonger!) and Karl Rove (who proved himself a Deceptive Coward!). Can we not see ourselves likewise shaking our heads over Sarah Palin and whomever else McCain would choose to sit in his Cabinet?

Sarah Palin was fished out of the woodwork in a blatant error of judgment. Teen pregnancy, allegations of abuse of power, and suspicions of an affair with her husband’s business partner have already surfaced. She’s a headline grabber, that’s for sure. She’s already drawn the ire of the AP, which published this article, picked up by AlaskaReport.com after her speech at the RNC: “Associated Press says Sarah Palin lied in Republican speech” Great job, McCain. This woman’s more scandal-ridden than Paris Hilton. And frankly? I don’t think she represents me or any other woman I love and respect.

Look, Something Shiny! is not a political blog, nor would I ever describe myself as a person whose opinion on political topics is one of any expert caliber. So, I challenge somebody to please explain Sarah Palin to me. No, don’t explain her to me. Explain John McCain to me. No, don’t explain him to me. Explain the GOP to me. No, no… No. Explain to me why more people aren’t tapping each other on the shoulder and going, “Seriously?”

I don’t care about who is going to raise my taxes or who is going to keep Mexicans from crossing the border. What I care about is putting the best PERSON in office; someone I can trust to make a good freaking decision for once. Pick Obama and he’ll learn, grow, listen, and heal this precious America! that we were once so proud of. Better yet? He’ll lead us FORWARD and not allow us to remain stagnant in an America! that has been embarrassed by our idiot President, increasingly hated by foreign countries, and financially ruined by corrupt and greedy government officials and corporate leadership. America!, we got ourselves into this mess. Let’s get ourselves out.

I have put up a ton of new pictures. Lately they’re my thing. Pictures and video. My things.

Life can change, for good or ill, very suddenly; a concept that we forget about in our day-to-day hum drum world of routines and jobs and deadlines and appointments. We track our schedules on calendars and make lists of to-dos, all for the sake of slicing our lives into stress-free, bite-sized morsels that are easy to pick up, chew and digest. It’s all about maintaining control; it’s all about looking (and feeling) like we’ve got our shit together. “Why can’t it be simple?” we ask ourselves. So we file our papers, pay our bills on time, and make an extra effort to keep the laundry caught up. But? We’re subconsciously waiting for and dreading the inevitable implosion brought upon by chance and good old fashioned human nature. Agent Smith said that we can’t survive in a world in which predictability and satisfaction are the prevailing conditions of existence. I don’t know what logic that fictional badass was basing his assertion upon, but if he’s right then we’re all devoting a lot of time and energy to the pursuit of denying our essential need (desire?) for chaos.

I can see why we work so hard to postpone the inevitable: Change is tough. In many cases it is downright painful. Depending upon our capacity for coping, we create a personal barrier of a thickness that is directly proportional to our fear of being out of control. But it’s not infallible, and unless you’re God you can’t create an all-encompassing forcefield that will defend against every attack. And why should we? The trials and tribulations of life, though impossible to forsee, are the hammer strokes that shape our personalities, adding value to our individual experiences on Earth.

An important truth I have learned: Regret robs you of the present moment. Sure, quitting my job and enrolling in beauty school was probably a bad idea. It was irresponsible and not thought through very well. But! I can sit and type this with confidence and even joy: I am a better person because I screwed up. Taking a chance, giving myself permission to lose control, caused a chain reaction that is still playing itself out. I realized that the business of beauty is actually not for me and I Freaked! Out! All of my preparation and planning and organizing had betrayed me. Now, I could go on and on about how I’m a new and better Nyco, but I won’t. The point is, I didn’t enroll in beauty school because I wanted to catalyze a life-altering epiphany. Oh, hammer of life, how you swing…

We can go ahead and make a rough sketch of what our days, weeks, months, years should look like. We can save money in various accounts that accrue interest and buy IRAs to prevent our grubby little hands from whittling our cash away. We can decide to have kids by a certain age and eat all the right things to influence our everlasting health. We should keep doing all of those things because they’re a good idea. But, on our way to the bank we should take a left when we should have made a right, trusting that we’ll make our way around to it eventually. Lay out on the anvil and take a hit or two once in awhile. And never forget the camera. No matter how hard we try, we just never know when we’ll wish we had it.