The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition. 2002, defines voyeur . voy-UR-iz-uhm, vwah-YUR-iz-uhm, VOY-uhr-iz-uhm) Deriving sexual satisfaction by secretly watching others undress or engage in sexual activity.

Peeping Tom or Peeping Tomisina is defined as one who derives pleasure, usually sexual, from secretly spying on others.

The original peeping Tom was a legendary resident of the town where Lady Godiva rode naked through the streets. According to legend, Tom defied the town by looking at her as she rode by. He was blinded as a punishment.

Surely Lot’s wife from the Bible was the ultimate peeping Tomisina, who paid for her peek back at the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah with the ultimate price. She was turned to a pillar of salt. And although the Bible mentions God's warning several places as "Remember Lot's wife...." no one seems to remember her name. I have always felt that Lot's wife got shafted.

I wonder though, if reality TV (Survivor series and Real World etc...) the internet in general, and blogging in particular, are examples of how technology has created a new generation of voyeurs and exhibitionists. Millions of people are gathering around their televisions sets to look into the lives of the suspecting. Cameras are all around. Every conversation is subject to airtime.

A less sexual form of voyeurism, where the heart, the sense of humor, the pain and the positive elements of the soul, rather than the body are explored. This is a much more public voyeur. This is a fully clothed exhibitionist. Perhaps a cultural phenomenon that mixes the two together will be the result of ever flexible technology and ever reaching humanity.

If the old saying of "walk a mile in someone else's shoes" is valid. Then we are truly on the edge of understanding on the Blogstream. This new techno voyeur is a pioneer in testing respect and acceptance. And the exhibitionist who is sharing their flaws and pain without pretension, may benefit by achieving understanding and acceptance from others. Transparency is a spiritual principal, after all. Respect and consideration for others, is not an innovative idea, at all.

This new phenomenon will not create blandness but should celebrate diversity and explore respect on a different frontier. May be a lot more interesting than those x rated sites that are using 2/3rds of our bandwidth as I write this blog. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” NO NUDITY INVOLVED!

Today my coffee pot died. The same coffee pot my Mom brought me as a Christmas gift over 10 years ago. I was almost sentimental about it. I looked out the window and saw that the tall young men were having a garage sale. I walked across the alley and saw a brand new coffee pot for $2. They never drink the stuff it was a gift. Within 10 minutes of losing one coffee pot I replaced it with a newer model.

Today I stuck with my plan of trying to spend more quality time with my Mom. So I agreed to go to breakfast at lunchtime, with her and her friend Bob. We went to Rosies's. My Mom and her friend knew all the waitresses. Rosies used to be Ferguson Rd Cafe and something before that and something before that. I remembered Sunday morning breakfast here as a child. And meeting my parents her before I was married. A coat of paint and the place continues to prosper and reinvent itself.

After a very long breakfast, we went to my Mom's friends house. It was a house where he and his wife raised 5 kids. There were very large cactus and driftwood yard art and the paint was the color of the desert sand. The chainlink fence had a newer fence inside it a 8' wood fence(painted to match the house) that hid almost a compound. The people that bought these homes in the 50's built on if they stayed. They took in the garage first then built on the patio and added a workroom after that.

The house was filled with memories. It was almost like a thrift store where nothing gets sold. For some reason it made me sad.

My friends C and Pat have a house at the lake which is a train car with a half a house built onto it. I love that. I would like to fix it up and decorate it with art deco. They have another house that is 5 bedrooms with a bus built into each side. I would love to make it into an exclusive restaurant.

But this was different today. It was a place where time stopped and it was sad to me

I looked for an image for clutter or timestop or junk and found nothing that made me feel the way this place did. Maybe it was the sadness of the people inside that I was feeling. But it cheered me up that I found the great image of a Chinese junk.



My oldest daughter came over. She was telling me how bad Hunter was today. He heard everything. I told her every 2 year old has accidents and that he is having a lot to adjust to. Hunter has told me he does not like the friend (married, and downright mean) that they were hanging out with. I don't think the guy likes kids. It didn't become an argument, but there was a moment that she decided to stop. Maybe I didn't discipline my kids enough, but I do not think that shaming children is ever healthy. I told her to stop and she did. Of course she is hoping I will match her Dad's offering of a car with $500. And I probably will to keep them on their feet.

Later today, I spoke to Dazey for a long time. We joked about trading lives for a week. I could have some quiet time and she could meet an international cast of characters and try to understand the languages.

She asked me about John. And I told her what I always say...."Maybe I should be unhappy. But it's hard to be upset when you don't know what you want." I do know that I would rather dance more often. And I could dance more if I would only call him. Not being shy. I think my instincts are telling me not to call him. But then again lately my instincts have been all screwed up with relationships. It is probably a good thing. Not to decide is to decide.

But all in all I will sleep well tonight. I got next to nothing accomplished today. But I had some moments It still happens to me, and I hope it always will. The kismet moments when the gray of every day life turns colorful. Those moments when the curtains part and all is right with the world. When you see the exotic Chinese junk through the rock tunnel as you float on the other side.

There is a God, and it is not me. Strength for the journey keeps me afloat. Anticipation keeps me enjoying the ride.....

At 3 AM this morning i heard a pebble hit the sliding glass door. My sleepy eyes searched the back yard for the source of the noise. The large shadow became smaller and his meow was persistant. Deano burst into the house like three kinds of devils were chasing him.

I fed him and patted him for an hour before he calmed down. He wanted to wake up Sami, but settled for me. I feel asleep holding him. And I woke up with him hanging around my neck. I hate when he does that, but this morning it was OK.

Deano was gone for over a week. His food dishes were washed. I had not expected the cat with no front claws to return home. He seems no worse for the wear.

When I went outside to the patio I found the most beautiful ring. Silver with a wolf and a human molded together. It has tiny jewels and an Opal in it. Go figure.........

By late afternoon the wake spilled over into the houses next door. By nightfall it had become a block party. Andy's wake was a celebration of significance. He had planned it to the last detail. It was a catered event with 2 bars flowing freely. He was always thoughtful. Now he had left something to all his friends and all his fans. A sendoff party, planned by the absent guest of honor.

I had hunted and fished with Andy many times. We were like brothers. Now he was gone and I felt betrayed. It was almost as if he knew he was going and he prepared everything for the day after. i never even got to say goodbye.



Everyone knew they were burying an empty box. The body was never found. Andy Loman was a country music legend. A boating accident looked suspiciously like suicide to those of us who knew him best.

The loudspeakers played Andy all night long. The mourners were mostly drunk, but hated to leave the free booze.

As I left the wake I walked towards Andy's only heir. She would have been his third and final wife if death hadn't come for him before they tied the knot. Opal was a mystery to Andy's old pals. A tattooed beauty with deep green eyes that none of us had met before this event. But all the paperwork was in place and a slew of attorneys assured me that Andy had left her everything.

"Goodnight Opal," I patted the almost widow's arm. "I wish it could have been under different circumstances." The lady put down her tiny cigar and smiled at me. I swear her eyes looked almost the color of Andy's blue instead of green. She reached for my hand and shook it firmly. that's when I noticed Andy's ring. It was a half man and half wolf heavy silver circle with jewels. Andy's Indian heretige was always proudly displayed in what he called his "shapeshifter" ring. It seemed to fit her large hands as snuggly as it had Andy's.

"I know Bob, he will be missed." Opal raised her eyebrows as I glanced at the ring. "He gave it to me last week. Both the ring and I are still making adjustments." Her eyes turned from sky blue to forest green. "I hope we will always be friends Bob. Andy always thought a lot of you."

I laid down my drink and walked to my car with one last glance at the shapeshifter.

In many stories the shapeshifter appears as human. But given time the nature of the beast prevails. It is the nature of the shapeshifter to always change. Moving from one role to another, from a familiar personality to a different one, changing from human to an animal in the blink of an eye. The fly on the wall becomes the hungry predator. These dramatic changes are hard to track and understand. That very changeability is the essence of the entity. This keeps the hero off guard.

The shapeshifter is often a person of the opposite sex, sometimes the hero's romantic interest. In other stories, the shapeshifter may be a friend of the same sex, often a buddy figure, or in fantasies, a magical figure such as a shaman or witch. Mentors often appear as shapeshifters.

Good becomes evil, sometimes a catalyst which forces the hero to change. As the hero questions reality the reader questions exactly who is the hero. The characters are tested and foundation beliefs are shaken. Even the hero assumes the role of shapeshifter. The prince becomes a frog, the nice man next door neighbor turns into a serial killer. Funny how much like real life the shapeshifter may be.