<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 16 May 2012 21:28:36 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Summer</category><category>SAHM</category><category>nectar bun</category><category>Motherhood</category><category>June Gloom</category><category>Mermaids</category><category>full-body Kevlar</category><category>self-revelation</category><category>Craigslist</category><category>Navel Gazing</category><category>movies</category><category>Dublin</category><category>Family</category><category>Brasil</category><category>Los Angeles</category><category>France</category><category>Women</category><category>Coincidence</category><category>time machine</category><category>The Source</category><category>Whirl-a-whip</category><category>production design</category><category>karaoke film</category><category>wish fulfillment</category><category>Coffee</category><category>Chick Flick House</category><category>Anais Nin quote</category><category>Thrift Store</category><category>Las Vegas</category><category>Father Yod</category><category>Travel</category><category>Harry Nilsson</category><category>Food</category><category>Makeover</category><category>Writing</category><category>Han Solo</category><category>Consumerism</category><category>Grey May</category><category>Social Justice</category><category>Magic</category><category>TV</category><category>Burt Bacharach</category><category>Cooking</category><category>Facing Fears</category><category>Mae West</category><category>Oppressive Beauty Standards</category><category>Bunni</category><category>Winter</category><category>Del Scorcho</category><category>Race and Ethnicity</category><category>Design</category><category>music</category><category>caftans</category><category>Small Town USA</category><category>Talismans</category><category>Santa Ana Wind Survival</category><category>Fashion</category><category>Dusty Springfield</category><category>Obsessions</category><category>bouffant hairdo</category><category>Star Wars</category><category>sugar</category><category>Nautica</category><category>The Jeffersons</category><category>Recipes</category><category>Hollywood</category><category>Dreams</category><category>rhinestones</category><category>Herb Alpert</category><title>Viva Joy Riot!</title><description>Long live the happiness revolution</description><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>69</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-1343048500855990673</guid><pubDate>Mon, 23 Jan 2012 20:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-23T12:57:31.699-08:00</atom:updated><title>Gung Hay Fat Choy</title><atom:summary type='text'>thank you to shawn clover
It's the year of the Water Dragon, y'all!  
Things to do on the Lunar New Year*:
1. Clean house (sweep out old ill will &amp; bad luck and make room for the auspicious New)   2. Decorate the house with red: it symbolizes joy and in Mandarin the word for red is homophonous with prosperity. 3. Wear red to scare away bad spirits/luck. According to a Chinese acquaintance of mine</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2012/01/gung-hay-fat-choy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLQTqpdJq60/Tx3AkWshYMI/AAAAAAAAAXU/9K_ApD7sNbc/s72-c/featured-chinese-new-year-2006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-7522564521867671332</guid><pubDate>Mon, 29 Aug 2011 06:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-28T23:50:46.265-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Magic</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Han Solo</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Dreams</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>movies</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Navel Gazing</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Star Wars</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Coincidence</category><title>May the Force Be With You... And Also with You</title><atom:summary type='text'>Advance warning: this is not the clearest or even most interesting post I've ever written. I'm tired, and probably should have held onto this puppy for further elaboration and editing before posting it, but I'm impatient to discover what, if anything it means. Try to be kind.

I had a perplexing dream last night.

(Brief pause for some Choose Your Own Adventuring. If you're thinking: Who didn't </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/08/may-force-be-with-you-and-also-with-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-5077963535706637544</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Aug 2011 20:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-14T22:06:21.642-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Motherhood</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Magic</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Family</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>music</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>TV</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Coffee</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Bunni</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>SAHM</category><title>Look around you: Art/Magic is Everywhere</title><atom:summary type='text'>Are you a morning person or a night owl? I consider myself a lark; that is, I feel my best self in the morning hours. I guess my daughter is, too, because most mornings she sounds off her toddler-reveille between 6 and 6:45 am. Not an ungodly hour, by any means.  For a non-negotiable wake up time, however, 6-something certainly falls on the earlier side. And so the system we've developed is to </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/08/look-around-you-artmagic-is-everywhere.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-7364963949829942733</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Aug 2011 02:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-14T22:10:06.221-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Obsessions</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Brasil</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>music</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Facing Fears</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Race and Ethnicity</category><title>Bahia or Bust: PART THREE Samba Seeps In</title><atom:summary type='text'>If you're just jumping on board VJR for the first time, you'll want to read the two previous installments of this series here.  

Ana's class. Brasil Brasil Cultural Center. I have to force myself into the crowded room, onto the uneven floors. Most of the women fall somewhere on the skin tone spectrum between caramel and ebony. I am prepared to flaunt my pretty pretty ButterflyPony dance moves, </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/08/bahia-or-bust-part-three-samba-seeps-in.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-1386000330805447640</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 Jul 2011 18:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-05T07:48:15.852-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Obsessions</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Brasil</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>music</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Facing Fears</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>full-body Kevlar</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Race and Ethnicity</category><title>Bahia or Bust: PART TWO In Which Our Heroine Finds Herself Falling Into Every Cultural Imperialist- and Chick Flick/Lit-Cliche in the Book</title><atom:summary type='text'>IN our last chapter,Bahia or Bust, I explained the genesis of my fascination with Brasil. Here, the fascination takes root. 

The last place anyone would expect to get bored would be a successful international art and erotica publisher. But circa 2005, that was me. My job was to hunt down world-class celebrities (politicians, spiritual leaders, actors, athletes and rock stars from the 1960's </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/07/bahia-or-bust-part-two-in-which-our.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fm23wsKAjTo/Ti8SYaYU8DI/AAAAAAAAAV8/7jFYrF7YaEE/s72-c/muhammad_ali1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-4376149396504438572</guid><pubDate>Tue, 12 Jul 2011 15:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-08-14T22:08:42.437-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Obsessions</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>wish fulfillment</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Brasil</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>music</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Travel</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Race and Ethnicity</category><title>Bahia or Bust: PART ONE Beats, Beauty and Brazil</title><atom:summary type='text'>Lots of us, if we are lucky or willing  enough to admit it, experience some sort of irrational affection for a  place we know nothing about. Just the sound of the name of the place,  one photo in an encyclopedia or on a travel poster is like a beacon, a  promise. Some put it down to a past life association that manifests in  this life in inexplicable ways: Mr. B suffers from a near total lack of</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/07/bahia-or-bust-part-one-beats-beauty-and.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pvL1wBCwYZI/Thxi6FaEUZI/AAAAAAAAAVA/OUfSF6ViIT4/s72-c/paraguassu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-3806273350681512449</guid><pubDate>Sun, 03 Jul 2011 19:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-03T12:29:45.166-07:00</atom:updated><title>Happiness: It's in the Bag</title><atom:summary type='text'>Hedonic adjustment: just a fancy way of saying that the things that make you happy right now probably won't 5 minutes, 5 days and especially 5 months from now. I know full well of the theory that humans are wired to acclimate to the highs of new sources of happiness, until they wear off completely and we are forced to go out looking for something else to get us Up. I'm well familiar with it. And </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/07/happiness-its-in-bag.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-2265928318815194145</guid><pubDate>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 20:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-07T21:53:34.524-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Los Angeles</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>June Gloom</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>movies</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Grey May</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Hollywood</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Del Scorcho</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>The Source</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Mae West</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Father Yod</category><title>Day Dreams of L.A.</title><atom:summary type='text'>Say what you will about Los Angeles, you've got to admit it is the American capital of good weather. People come here from around the globe to bask in our temperate Mediterranean zone and unrivaled 3,000 hours of annual sunshine. In the immortal words of Joe Walsh, however, "I can't complain but sometimes I still do". Though I try not to whine much, somehow I manage to find something to bitch </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/06/day-dreams-of-la.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIDy1TLagXg/TflAItyiRpI/AAAAAAAAATk/6gekNFChr8k/s72-c/flippers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-6636796562339037925</guid><pubDate>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 17:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-22T12:24:34.132-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Whirl-a-whip</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Small Town USA</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>The Jeffersons</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>TV</category><title>We Finally Got a Piece of the Pie (a la mode)</title><atom:summary type='text'>
Well, it's official, readers; we're movin' on up.  VJR Headquarters has transplanted, relocated, uprooted. You can now get your fill of the contents of my brain here, at my very own site: www.vivajoyriot.com.  
Thanks to my cousin J,  I am now the proud owner of my own domain.  He had the brilliant idea to host my site, and only a year and a half later, I've finally taken him up on the offer (</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/06/we-finally-got-piece-of-pie-la-mode.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ld0QDy4ej-M/TfkOuC7443I/AAAAAAAAATg/uOEGr7EsNUo/s72-c/raleigh-house-on-wheels_CKzlJ_24431.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-5779531741014782334</guid><pubDate>Wed, 08 Jun 2011 19:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-12T13:40:53.115-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>bouffant hairdo</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>caftans</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>nectar bun</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>karaoke film</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Harry Nilsson</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>rhinestones</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Dusty Springfield</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>music</category><title>How Can I Be Sure of You</title><atom:summary type='text'>For your visual and aural consumption today I submit one of the world's best songs, by Harry Nilsson. If you aren't familiar with him, you can find him filed under MUSICAL GENIUS, in the "Woefully Under-appreciated" section, under the subset "Died penniless, way too early".  Beware however, this stellar song is set to possibly the world's worst video, if measured in terms of visual quality and </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/06/how-can-i-be-sure-of-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-6265035517056776261</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Jun 2011 21:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-12T13:42:10.501-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Anais Nin quote</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>self-revelation</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Facing Fears</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>full-body Kevlar</category><title>beast of burden</title><atom:summary type='text'>Whereas most domestic flights allow each passenger two pieces of checked luggage, and one small carry-on, today my metaphorical baggage feels slightly over the limit.  Something like this, in fact.



Sacramento Airport 
It is a tired cliche that the useless, outgrown thoughts  we lug around in our head to no good purpose are called (in pop  psychobabble terms, anyway) "baggage". But it is an apt</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/06/beast-of-burden.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hisZt2V_80Q/Te0ynFJAd5I/AAAAAAAAATY/ls3-7Mh0wW0/s72-c/Luggage+sculpture.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-5142402147552463184</guid><pubDate>Fri, 03 Jun 2011 21:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-07T21:48:12.203-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>sugar</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Food</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Facing Fears</category><title>Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.  Just because I want to doesn’t mean I will.</title><atom:summary type='text'>
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 font-size:12.0pt;</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/06/just-because-i-can-doesnt-mean-i-should.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPo0TfO_mKE/TelIMzDvljI/AAAAAAAAATA/uOaxdFy5hpU/s72-c/fresh_orange_slush.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-1406662084366155745</guid><pubDate>Fri, 27 May 2011 05:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-13T12:42:35.617-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Obsessions</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Talismans</category><title>The Tip of the Iceberg</title><atom:summary type='text'>








 Every so often an image, idea or thing will sort of sidle itself up to me and take up residence in my brain for awhile. Something about said thing will speak eloquently to me, and I will enlist it as my symbol for a time. My latest such talisman is the glacier. 

Glaciers are beautiful and massive and overwhelming. Like most human beings I enjoy such an occasional reminder that </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2011/05/tip-of-iceberg.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xI0e5rG_rJo/Td7JxcEwUnI/AAAAAAAAASo/Nk0Ny4p13WA/s72-c/CalvingGlacier.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-6703421911050273706</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Jul 2010 22:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-07-19T15:26:03.780-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Nautica</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Recipes</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Travel</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Dublin</category><title>Slainte, Dublin</title><atom:summary type='text'>We may have landed in Ireland Wednesday, but it has taken until today --  Monday -- for it that fact to sufficiently sink in. Pity it took me so long to wake up and smell the peat fire burning. I  suppose I had to spend most of my time and energy thus far adjusting Bunni to her  new surroundings and time zone. I also had to spend a few days mourning  the trips to Dublin of yore, when the Mister </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/07/slainte-dublin.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-5763940606136137453</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 22:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-24T15:12:37.056-07:00</atom:updated><title>Mr. Clean</title><atom:summary type='text'>I was introduced to this song circa 1995/6, by my friend Nate. As was typical in those days, he put it on a mix tape for me.

 

Someone told me Bill Withers was a janitor before he was signed as a recoding artist. I think they were thinking of Kris Kristofferson, but let's not let the truth be the enemy of a good blog post. 

Little Nate (as we called him, to differentiate him from another </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/06/mr-clean.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-788020766281116239</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 22:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-27T13:35:17.004-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Motherhood</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Navel Gazing</category><title>The Only Way Out is Through</title><atom:summary type='text'>I've been doing a lot of reading lately about how memories take shape, and how they in turn shape us. Parenting From the Inside Out gets pretty deep into brain mechanics, in an effort to explain how our childhood memories effect how we raise our children. A lot of the brain-talk is a little more scientific than this blog needs to get, but what stood out for me was this fact: the human brain is </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/06/only-way-out-is-through.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-2059594155363796562</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 22:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-24T15:05:22.439-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Writing</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>wish fulfillment</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Family</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Travel</category><title>Once Upon a Time</title><atom:summary type='text'>Once upon a time on a small green island there lived a certain young man. The youngest of four black-haired brothers, he grew up surrounded by guitars, pianos and melodies. Music would always be at the tips of his magical fingertips, his grandmother -- herself a concert pianist -- told him. She was right. By the time he was 20 his songs could be heard all over his small green island. 

This was </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/06/once-upon-time.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NG2B62IEuPY/S9YKuwKdaDI/AAAAAAAAARc/A0p7CwGRPI0/s72-c/IMG_0089.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-570619850595883317</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 21:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-13T12:48:05.807-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Writing</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Nautica</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Navel Gazing</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Facing Fears</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Mermaids</category><title>Who Am I Kidding?</title><atom:summary type='text'>In college I dated a lanky art student who once invited me to the university's art studio. He painted, Pixies playing in the background, while I read on the sidelines -- happy as a fireside-napping tabbycat.

We didn't date long. I probably gummed things up by getting overly pre-occupied with him, or maybe I just wasn't his type. In any case, we didn't drop our respective veils enough to let the </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/06/who-am-i-kidding.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-1160894396303971400</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 21:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-24T14:34:46.576-07:00</atom:updated><title>If Wishes Were Horses</title><atom:summary type='text'>...this house would be carpeted with road apples.

A while back I offered up an arrangement for our living room that requires some new furniture items.  I didn't think anyone would much notice my sketch, let alone read it (Hello...hello...hello... Anyone out there?...there?...there?..) But to my surprise, a few did. So I'm following up.

Here is my list of new items necessary to complete my ideal</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/06/if-wishes-were-horses.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NG2B62IEuPY/S1erW2oCnPI/AAAAAAAAAPc/NtCFbmOdOy8/s72-c/orange+credenza.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-6701439679312364822</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Jun 2010 21:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-24T15:28:42.911-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Navel Gazing</category><title>A few things I've learned about myself the past year.</title><atom:summary type='text'>Got your magnifying lenses out?  Good, because today we are navel gazing, after the jump. If you're not bursting with interest in my navel, you may wish to skip this post. But since you've already got your magnifying lense out, why not stare into your own depths for awhile. Go ahead, I give you permission. Go on, its good for you.




I am one competitive SOB. It's not so much that I have to be </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/06/few-things-ive-learned-about-myself.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-1589543620412243660</guid><pubDate>Mon, 08 Mar 2010 21:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-06-24T14:18:36.014-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Brasil</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Women</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Race and Ethnicity</category><title>But rich or poor the woman has to work for both of them</title><atom:summary type='text'>Did anyone else find it patronizing that the Oscar orchestra played "I Am Woman (Hear Me Roar)" as Kathryn Bigelow walked offstage after accepting her academy award?  

And what took so long for a woman director to receive the award, anyway?

In honor of International Woman's Day, here is a little song for you. What I'd like to know is, what one thing can you think of that would improve the lives</atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/03/but-rich-or-poor-woman-has-to-work-for.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-787274511435321723</guid><pubDate>Wed, 03 Mar 2010 16:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-03-03T08:51:15.793-08:00</atom:updated><title>Pardon Our Dust</title><atom:summary type='text'>I've been AWOL for awhile. This can only mean one thing: La BunBun hasn't been sleeping through the night. Which means, of course, that I haven't been sleeping through the night. Sleep deprivation is the lumberjack, and I, dear reader, am the tree, felled at the knees.

Lack of sleep doesn't just make me tired, it sucks me dry -- leaving me a brittle shell of myself; someone stumbling, </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/03/pardon-our-dust.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-439855700729964450</guid><pubDate>Tue, 09 Feb 2010 22:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-09T14:24:07.313-08:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Social Justice</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Race and Ethnicity</category><title></title><atom:summary type='text'>"It amazes me when I looked at California and saw churches that had nothing to say about police brutality, nothing to say when a young black boy was shot while he was wearing police handcuffs, nothing to say when they overturned affirmative action, nothing to say when people were being [relegated] into poverty, yet they were organizing and mobilizing to stop consenting adults from choosing their </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/02/it-amazes-me-when-i-looked-at.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NG2B62IEuPY/S3HYyrfEpHI/AAAAAAAAAQU/pzFXo6A03_Q/s72-c/137.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-6718843717694271974</guid><pubDate>Fri, 05 Feb 2010 17:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-05T09:38:33.224-08:00</atom:updated><title>Photo Finish Friday: All A-flutter</title><atom:summary type='text'> Monterey Park, CA June 2009 </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/02/photo-finish-friday-all-flutter.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NG2B62IEuPY/S2xXcC5sr5I/AAAAAAAAAQM/tbgREAwyeDg/s72-c/IMG_5088.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6125868609963846410.post-7552248851201579542</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 Jan 2010 21:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-06-13T13:28:44.709-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Motherhood</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>production design</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Obsessions</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>time machine</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>movies</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Makeover</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Chick Flick House</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Design</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>SAHM</category><title>How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Rom-Com</title><atom:summary type='text'>Oh, Hollywood. You paint the world in such broad strokes. You would have us believe that estrogen  hard-wires the females of our species toward an affinity for the chick flick, that genre of cliche-ridden, tear-stained, make-over montage-featuring, romance-worshipping movie that is your supposed contribution to womenkind.  Honestly, Hollywood, I'm insulted. And not that interested in watching </atom:summary><link>http://www.vivajoyriot.com/2010/01/how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-love.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sarah B)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item></channel></rss>
