Everyday Roz

Easter Redux

2010-04-03T11:22:00.000-05:00

Sorry, Easter. Sorry I never managed to come up with a firm, reliable tradition for you. Besides the baskets-full-of-candy-dyed-egg-thing, I mean. And that is almost good enough for the entire day. But we've never quite figured it all out. Is Easter a BIG holiday? Do we invite all the family over for a BIG dinner? We have a few times, either here or at another house (apparently we all all similarly inclined towards confusion about the nature of celebrating Easter...) but the traditon never took hold for any of us. I am thinking a few things here.

1. Easter is just too religious for our family. Christmas is nice as it is at base, simply a celebration of a birth. Easter flat out celebrates one of the miracles of Christianity and none of us are actual believers. So greeting someone with a "Happy Easter!" seems almost hypocritical, particularly if you are not handing them jelly beans or Hershey eggs.

2. The weather is so unreliable here. Today we have light fluffy snow falling. Pretty! It is quite the Currier and Ives scene. And listen! Is that the sound of snowplows grinding down the streets? Pretty far removed from spring grasses and tulips and little girls in pastel-colored dresses collecting flowers from the garden. (Although I do have a memory of lilies of the valley in bloom once during my childhood. Must have been an extremely late Easter that year.) And Easter egg hunts? A foreign concept here due to winter condition prevailing the majority of the time.

3. The date is so terribly changeable. My understanding is that we have t least a four week span here--I decline to go consult a perpetual calendar (though I do love those things)-- but I am certain Easter has been held as late as April 19. And today of course is March 23. This gigantic gap messes with the holiday spirit in a dangerous way for some of us. We need more predictibility!

4. Never figured out what to eat for Easter dinner. There was a long span of vegetarianism around here and the idea of a ham or a lamb roast was just too meaty to contemplate. Turkey (although not a vegetable, yes, I do undestand that) was an alternative but...nah. How about piles of candy instead? Got to get to work on those chocolate rabbits sometime. Make it today, around six PM!

Sorry, Easter. But thanks for all the candy anyway.

St. Augustine Triple Exposure

2010-03-26T16:01:00.003-05:00

When I started digging around my hard drive looking at photos to make into triple exposures, it dawned on me that photos that didn't really work on their own for one reason or another--bad focus, too dark, off-center subject-- were ideal candidates for layering with other images. This one uses a close-up of James, Jacksonville at sunset seen from the freeway, and the Indian River logo from a store selling citrus. Piled together, they evoke the sleepy funky nature of our trip to St. Augustine.

Triple Exposure

2010-03-25T18:12:00.007-05:00

September 15, 2009 was my dad's 90th birthday. I know, awesome! And he really is an amazing man--handsome and smart. We had a party that was pretty fabulous and I got some fairly good shots. It happened that right around that time I figured out how to create a type of triple "exposure" by layering photos and messing with the opacity. This one features my dad and his birthday cake, my nephew James taking photos (so meta!) and, less obviously, some Norwegian candy emblazoned (naturally)with Norwegian script that James brought back from a trip to Scandinavia. It's really wonderful for me to show these triple layer photos to people and to observe how intently the picture is studied. It can be work to find all three elements but people are invariably excited to do it.

Every Nail & Staple Tells A Story

2010-03-24T15:49:00.001-05:00

You've seen a thousand of these, I know. Telephone poles on street corners, with "Lost Dog" or "Handyman for Hire" notices stapled on. I've been awed by the simply uncountable number of tacks that evidence a neighborhood's long, long history of missing pets and men in need of work. And look at this pole--look at the texture! Want to run your hands over it, don't you? I mean bleeding palms aside, I know I'd like to, but I can't. I know exactly where I took this photo but a day or so later I drove by and was shocked to see that this pole was gone. Ripped right out of the ground. Making way for new street corner technology, I presume

Washington Avenue Bridge/Weisman Museum

2010-03-23T16:53:00.001-05:00

We're on the Washington Avenue Bridge crossing the Mississippi River and that pile of hammered together metal shapes is the wonderful little Weisman Art Museum, designed by Frank Gehry. It sits on the East Bank of the University of Minnesota and picks up the blue of the sky (and the water, when not frozen) pretty intensely, all day long. I've got to try and get a photo of it when the sun is setting--it must look like it's on fire!

Like the tilt?

Roadside Winter Landscape

2010-02-01T21:46:00.002-06:00

I like the way this photo came out--it's bleak and busy at the same time.

Sound of Music, Redux

2009-12-28T07:58:00.007-06:00

Full disclosure--just ate an M&M off the floor.

Also, can't stop thinking about "The Sound of Music" which aired on network TV last night. You all know the story, right? Young Fraulein Maria Wants-to-be-a-nun is sent by her convent's abbess to be governess for the emotionally dead dead dead Captain Von Trapp and his seven resentful offspring. Maria immediately brings MUSIC! back into their life. The Captain is so grateful he dumps his savvy, svelte rich blonde Baroness to marry boyish Fraulein Maria with her sensible shoes andlove of syrupy Tyrolean ballads. Sadly, I missed the first ten minutes of the movie so I didn't get to hear the gang of nuns back at the abbey dissing Maria in that song called How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria which incidentally we hear them sing at her wedding a mere three hours later! It's a fairly passive aggressive little ditty in which the other nuns all bond by making up mean stuff about Maria (...underneath her wimple...she wears curlers in her hair!--oh she does not--her hair is like two inches long!) before the Mother Superior kicks her out and sends her off to catch a bus to the Von Trapp compound. For her trip away from the convent Maria carries a carpet bag she stole from Mary Poppins and wears an odd, pieced-leather hat, sort of a snug fitting beanie with a huge floppy brim. Perfect for warding off rain and sun and attention from the opposite sex! I kid. She's totally cute and the hat is actually kind of appealing in a Curious George Man With the Big Yellow Hat kind of way

Anyway, I noticed a few little things I hadn't before, in all my many, many viewings of this classic musical starring the lovely and sexless Julie Andrews. Such as--oh my god, the butler is a Nazi! And an informer! He's constantly prowling around the Von Trapp mansion lifting an eyebrow and then before you know it there's a Nazi officer at the door asking probing questions about the Captain's sex life. Also, every single male cast member is outfitted in snug pants and was definitely directed to play it homosexual. Captain VonTrapp? Prissy and gay. Uncle Max? Flamboyant and gay. Fourteen-year-old Friedrich? Repressed and gay. Ten-year-old Kurt? Adorable and gay.

The movie is endless and is full of disturbing close-ups of Maria in which the Gaussian blur is so thick I kept turning the TV volume up so I could hear through it. Oh, but then the Captain gets behind the blur so they can smooch--just a little!--and rub foreheads together because that is spelled out in Julie's contract--"for every event where my lips must meet those of my co-star I stipulate no less than four(4) instances of upper cranial contact lasting at least twenty seconds." You just know Julie's kinky, in a sleep-with-stuffed-animals-until-she's-forty kind of way.

So what got me through the long, long LONG three hours of prancing and sneering from Captain Von Trapp (played by the perpetually annoyed Christopher Plummer)? Three solid hours of watching all seven Von Trapp children parade around outfitted in amazingly ugly "playclothes" that gifted needlewoman Maria whipped up from her bedroom curtains (um, Scarlett O'Hara ripoff or what)? Incidentally the "children" include a very sophisticated sixteen-year-old girl who spends the entire movie plotting to get her junior Nazi boyfriend (panicky and gay) to notice her. Tip--lose the chartreuse-paisley-apron-front dirndl, honey.

I don't know. I lay back on the pillows of my bed, tossing back cough drops in a contented stupor. The Sound of Music is just a beautiful movie. Those damn awesome alps, the camera swooping us here and there up amidst the clouds and down amongst the edelweiss. The charming town of Salzburg with its, its --is that a Roman Coliseum the family performs in? Amazing. The cobblestone streets and the old buildings and the stunningly symmetrical VonTrapp family mansion... just perfect. Oh and the gorgeous wedding in the enormous Gothic Abbey--sigh. It is all so ornate yet simple and lovely. I couldn't tear myself away, not even to watch Battle Tomato on Iron Chef. And when the entire family trudges across the Alps to Switzerland to escape the Nazis I sat straight up and drank in every detail of the scene. I cheered for them. They're going to make it! Hurrah for freedom! And lederhosen! Hurrah for strudel and schnitzel! And warm copper kittens!

(Wait--how does that song go?)

Originally posted January 9, 2009

America the Beautiful, ASL style

2009-12-23T20:45:00.004-06:00

I wish I'd taken more photos of this man as he signed--passionately!--"America the Beautiful" at Lucia's graduation ceremony ten days ago. He did such a gorgeous job, truly conveying the patriotism and love for America's ideals and natural beauty that make "America the Beautiful" such a moving anthem. I've always preferred it to "The Star-Spangled Banner".

How about you?

Moon Over Rainy Lake

2009-09-08T19:57:00.006-05:00

2009 was a really cold summer in Canada but the day we got to the cabin the sun was out and everyone was running around the marina sweating and yelling about how damn hot it was. While we unloaded everything from the car then loaded it into the boat I was in charge of Daisy and she and I tried not to take it too personally that all the ducks hanging around the dock dove headfirst into the lake as we approached. Yeah, they gang-mooned us.

Dandelion Daisy

2009-05-24T21:27:00.002-05:00

All the dandelions in all the parks around the city have all gone to seed in the past couple of days. They bloomed yellow for two whole weeks this year, competely untouched by municipal grooming machinery. It may be finances or something dreary like that, but I like to think that the city just decided that the dandelions blooming in the grass of the playing fields and along the park boulevards were just too darn pretty to mow down. Then this weekend every single one of them went to seed. Even I was shocked at the billowing clouds of dandelion fluff a small dog like Daisy managed to kick up just tromping through the grass on a normal walk.

2009-05-24T08:09:00.001-05:00

Lifted from Cuteoverload.com. Happy Sunday!

2009-05-21T15:57:00.004-05:00

( I've been gone so long--it just happens sometimes, I guess. But you are here-- thanks! )

I found this photo on the front page of the Washington Post today and it made me laugh out loud. The child pictured is apparently at a spa getting her hair done and undergoing various other relaxing and beautifying techniques. Ever seen anyone look so very not relaxed? And that chair...is it a chair? It looks like a character from some science fiction fantasy --oh, wait, I just realized it must be a bear--look, I bet there is a happy ursine face behind our blinded-by-cucumber-slices-little girl.

I've always thought that beauty salons and spas are not the place for children. There is no way in hell that Cucumber Girl here needs to be treated for imminent lines or bags around her eyes. Ditto with manicures or pedicures for nails the size of chipmunk eyeballs. Unnecessary and misguided. (Hey--just like my blog! Hee hee.)

Cue the bongos!

2009-04-14T09:42:00.001-05:00

While in La Jolla, we stayed at a tiny house about a block away from a beach called Windansea. According to local lore, Windansea is a very famous surf locale, and has been in its share of surfer movies. Although fairly rocky in my non-surfer's estimation, there were always one or two surfers trying to catch a wave, no matter what time of day. Many of them were like this guy--can you sense the surf addiction vibe? He's gray-haired, his wetsuit is riddled with holes, the waves are stage one and the water temperature of the Pacific is probably in the sixties. No matter. He caught some, dude!

Say No More!

2009-04-11T16:02:00.003-05:00

It frustrates me no end that I don't have the full story of how this family came to have two monkeys as part of their putative "coat of arms" bas relief tableaux. It's all just so improbable! I mean, I'm not sure monkeys had even been invented back in the days when knights roamed the woods and forests, plucking low-hanging plumes to stick in their helmets and dickering with large songbirds about the cost of appearing on their knightly shields.

Then I remember that this cosy cottage is in California, people. California. Innovators, all!Meaning they were waaaaay out in front of the rest of the country in everything, including the pot smoking/stoned architect department.

You dig?

Tidepool Seagrowth, Pink

2009-04-06T15:27:00.004-05:00

What IS it with these photos of purple-y natural phenomena? First the frost photo (below)that has lingered at the top of the post list for weeks and weeks. And now--this thing (above). This is my favorite of all the three hundred pictures I shot while on a week's vacation in La Jolla. And it's true, one-third of those photos were of beached seals, mostly racked out in a truly impressive display of basking and lolling. And as such, most of those photos are amazingly boring. But this! This strange flower of the ocean! This crazy tidepool creature-harboring growth! This is pure excitement for a landlocked dweller like me. Check out the bubbles obligingly stationed at all four corners. Proof that this thing is really underwater.

Small Consolation for Atmospheric Brutality

2009-03-13T14:44:00.002-05:00

This is one of my upstairs windows, the most artistic one of the bunch in my opinion. Whenever the temperature falls way down in the single digits (Fahrenheit) the various window panes respond by covering themselves with captivating patterns of frost. I have noticed that irregularities in old glass tend to create certain themes in the frost design. This particular window pane usually builds a wintery scene centering around a pine tree of ice crystals. So I was stunned the other morning to find this delightful ice mural of waves cascading beneath a stormy sunrise. (If you turn the photo upside down I think you'll see a pile of gingko leaves floating above some...some...yeah, I don't know what the rest of the image could be. Let's stick with the wave theory.)

Sunday Evening Project

2009-03-11T11:16:00.009-05:00

This looks just a tad dangerous to me--I mean, check out the way that stepladder is leaning haphazardly against the maybe-in-need-of-repair bricks of that chimney. I know I definitely did not contribute to the safety of the situation by driving by three times before stopping to roll down my window, zoom in and snap several photos. Then I waved and drove away. I think I kind of scared him But hey, hopefully I gave Mr. I'll Be Up On The Roof If You Need Me something to talk about at dinner that night.

I mean, besides his broken leg...which he didn't get because of me, he shouldn't have been up there balancing so precariously in the first place. Right?

I'm babbling. I like this image. All black silhouette and pale sky with the ladder still managing to show its yellowness. Go, ladder!

Bobo

2009-03-08T21:59:00.013-05:00

What do you think of this guy? He's been a constant in my world since we moved into this house eight years ago. I often lean against the counter in the bathroom and contemplate his cheerful doorknob-y face as I brush my teeth. Once in awhile I'll reach over and adjust his deadbolt smile a little bit, maybe making him appear more quizzical or a bit uncertain (what I really should do, of course, is wipe his face more often). In eight years, though, I never thought to mention him to anyone else in the family. I did take a photo of him one slow, housebound day in January. I didn't like the way the flash illuminated his nose--I left the photo on my hard drive and forgot about it. Then two weeks ago a little notice popped into view on Flickr, for a group called "Facial Impressions". The creators of the group were collecting faces--faces found or accidentally created or just noticed. Anywhere, they said: In nature, or out on the street, or maybe in your bathroom. I immediately thought of Bobo, retrieved him from hard disc obscurity and posted him to the group.

He's done quite well there, garnering several dozen views and some appreciative comments. He's even been added as a "favorite" meaning there are some people out there who want to make sure they always know where to find Bobo's shiny comical face.

(I did finally think to ask around, find out if anyone else in the family had the same friendly relationship with our doorknob guy. No one knew what in the hell I was talking about.)

Ivy Vines

2009-03-06T08:46:00.002-06:00

I know I may be alone on this one but I really love these bare ivy vines crawling all over this sort of crappy pink stucco building. They look so freaky yet so organic, and so much like everything else that is weird. Like the seaweed underwater that grabs at your legs or giant basement cobwebs that stick to your hands and face or maybe some terrifying large system of veins and capillaries. Nature is so repetive, isn't it?

Red Dogwood Branches, Still Growing

2009-03-04T19:22:00.004-06:00

I went for a walk in the woods yesterday, hoping to get a photo of a Great Horned Owl who allegedly spends a lot of time in a certain tree. Apparently he had forsaken his old stomping grounds as there was no sign of any owl activity at all. But maybe I'll catch him another time! Meanwhile, I was more than happy to settle for a pleasantly invigorating tramp through the snow. I always love birdhouses so when we approached this one I swung my camera up to my eye to get a nice shot. Except I clicked too soon and got these handsome reddish branches instead. Although I reshot and actually have a focused photo of the (Purple Martin's?) house, I like the one above better. After all, these branches are here, slugging it out through Minnesota's tough winter months. Is there even anyone home at the Martins?

2009-03-04T09:48:00.002-06:00

Time to Eat

2009-03-04T08:50:00.001-06:00

I really like this photo of a female cardinal caught with a large seed in her mouth. It's almost the same dimension as her eyeball, isn't it? Cardinals are such lovely colorful birds and I am happy to provide them with food during the long dark winter months. But dang. It's getting a little freaky in my backyard. Yesterday I glanced out the kitchen window and as usual there was a cardinal sitting on the bird feeder, busy excavating black sunflower seeds, and one picking around on the snow beneath the feeder, catching the good fall-off. But the odd thing was--the bushes all around the yard were filled with cardinals. Bright red, pale drab, red with brownish wings--there they all were, more than I could count, all quietly watching their species mate enjoy himself. Then, swoop! Another cardinal's turn! And so it went--quiet observing, then sudden flight. Quiet observing, sudden flight.

Guess word is out on the sweet new platform James built onto the feeder.

Miracles

2009-03-02T09:50:00.004-06:00

Look at how white the snow is and how bare the branches are on this huge oak tree. It's a miracle, right? A beautiful, beautiful, miracle of WINTER. You want to hear about another miracle of winter? Girl Scout cookies. Just when you think you've almost made it to spring and everything is going to be all right, the dozen or so boxes of Thin Mints and Do-Si-Do's and Samoas get delivered right to your front door. And just look at you! Look at how helplessly you watch your pale, trembling hands rip open a box of Thin Mints. Marvel at how quickly you've torn into an entire sleeve of the weird minty chocolate crackers. Crunched them up! Gone. Gone. Gone. Phew.

Now shake the crumbs off your sweater. And be deeply grateful there wasn't a camera trained on you as you gobbled so desperately.

Blue Angel (Lake Street Mural # 77)

2009-03-01T13:37:00.014-06:00

I spied this this beautifully rendered mural while driving east on Lake Street last week. I don't know the context or the history but I am totally smitten with the blues and lavenders. On a more irreverant note I will add that I like how this starving orphan-type child seems to be reaching hungrily for the scabs of peeling paint. (Oh, don't you worry! I just know that winged shiksa has a mayonnaise sandwich tucked in a pocket of her giant nightie.)

Say What?

2009-02-11T12:08:00.000-06:00

"When I was in high school, my desire was to be a sportscaster. ESPN was just kicking off, just getting off the ground, and I thought that's what I was going to do in life, is be one of the first woman sportscasters. Until I learned that you'd have to move to Bristol, Connecticut. It was far away. So instead, I had a daughter and named her Bristol."-- Gov. Sarah Palin

--Slate Magazine, Feb. 11, 2009

Look Deep, Deep Into My Eye

2009-02-08T08:29:00.001-06:00

(Click to enlarge) Can you see what's reflected in this little guy's eye? It's a house! My house! I'm in the door way taking a photo of him as he perches on the back step railing. Well, you can't see me--at least I can't see myself--but isn't that spooky and great? Too bad the rest of the photo is kind of out of focus.

2009-01-27T18:06:00.000-06:00

At Last

2009-01-21T20:01:00.000-06:00

Quick Rundown

2009-01-21T07:52:00.007-06:00

Wasn't yesterday great? Did you watch until your eyeballs tried to crawl away from their sockets in an attempt to find a host who would allow them some blinkage? I did.

Let me just get the negative aspects out there first. Rick Warren--ugh. Hated that he was there. Just an ugly man with offensive views. Michelles's green gloves. Okay, while I actually sort of loved her big olive-colored hands holding that tiny red Lincoln Bible (while itsy-bitsy Jill Biden struggled to keep level that enormous, gold-leafed tome she was given--that thing was the size of a room air-conditioner). Hee! But is that going to be the modus operandi for our new First Lady? To mar her fashion message of gorgeous, striking simplicity with these last minute cave-ins to her jejeune practicality? (We saw it in her Election Night cardigan misstep, remember?)
What else---oh, my god, that poem by Elisabeth Alexander. Incredibly clunky. Had to mute her.

Highlights--in no particular order. Malia Obama taking photos with her little Nikon Cool Pix camera, especially when she handed it to Joe Biden so her could get her a better shot down the Mall. Sasha Obama in her pink and orange coat and scarf nonchalantly giving the Punahou High School Marching Band the surfer shaka shaka sign. Yo-Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman's quartet playing that great arrangement of "Simple Gifts". Wheelchair-bound Dick Cheney reminding us all of the villianous Mr. Potter from It's a Wonderful Life. Barack Obama getting a little bit ahead of himself as he took the oath of office--you know he had that thing memorized and was ready to recite it in one quick go. I liked Joseph Lowrey's rhyming and allusive blessing. And of course I think we all really liked George Bush's helicopter disappearing into the noonday sky. Goodbye Cowboy!

Goodbye to All That!

2009-01-20T04:38:00.000-06:00

2009-01-19T20:37:00.001-06:00

Don't you love it? No Parking In DC. Wow.

New Leaves

2009-01-17T09:20:00.004-06:00

Almost one hundred hours of below zero temperatures here, did you know that? It's been hard--the frigidity affects everything. The air outside smells different, especially in the mornings. Diesel fumes descend from the airplane corridor overhead, and lurk for hours. There's a stillness in the air that is different, too. It's as if the atmosphere is holding its breath. When the temperature rises to a few degrees above zero, I can hear the air moving once more. And that makes me breathe easier!

My houseplants have helped me from going completely winter-mad these last few days. Look at that schefflera bracket. It is so tiny, only half an inch across. I think it had just popped out when I happened to notice it a day or so ago. (Don't you love how infant plant leaves are so shiny and look so much like thin green plastic?) Grow, little schefflera corona! Get big and strong and probably a little dusty in your sunny spot in my dining-room window. And thanks for popping out just when you did. It meant a lot to me.

Love from the Obamas

2009-01-14T10:39:00.004-06:00

(click image to enlarge)

My daughter pointed out that this looks exactly like a wedding invitation (and was intensely interested in adding humorous bits to the text). I saved it from her comedic claws and will most likely be popping it into a plastic snap-in frame and propping it against a vertical surface somewhere in my house because I am just a big ol' sentimental fool. But I have to wonder at the sincerity of this invitation. I, along with a billion other Obama supporters, recieved it yesterday. That is exactly one week before the festivites! Sheesh! I mean, that doesn't give me a lot of time to shop for a present for the happy couple! Anyone know where they're registered?

(But, seriously, I am still pinching myself that we have this smart, smart, smart man as our President. Life is good.)

Mom, I'm FINE!

2009-01-12T19:16:00.003-06:00

I don't need a hat! It's not that cold! I'm fine! Snowblowing will only take ten minutes! Don't worry about me! I'm FINE!

First Mr Teeny Moment of the New Year

2009-01-10T08:39:00.006-06:00

At the grocery store yesterday I pushed my vision-obscuring cart past a woman who was intently studying the canned tomatoes. I murmured, "Excuse me" only to have her respond sort of dismissively, "Oh, you're fine." (As in, stop bothering me with polite expressions 'cause I am super busy figuring out these fucking tomatoes?)

Still processing this.

2009-01-01T17:30:00.005-06:00

I took this photo on University Avenue this afternoon. I was so captivated by the insistent jauntiness of the big neon "Andy's Eat Now!" sign that I didn't even notice the groovy mural of a trolley car. See it? Oh course you do. Because it is right there! The odd thing about me not seeing it is --the reason I was out driving around in the first place was to document a few more of the murals I keep seeing around town. D'oh.

I do like how every bit of this shot is crammed with some kind of text or visual message.

GoodBye to All That by Tom Tomorrow

2008-12-31T08:17:00.002-06:00

Click on cartoon to enlarge!

Full Disclosure

2008-12-29T10:23:00.019-06:00

Just ate an M&M off the floor. Also, can't stop thinking about "The Sound of Music" which aired on network tv last night. You all know the story, right? Young Fraulein Maria Wants-to-be-a-nun is sent by her convent's abbess to be governess for the emotionally dead dead dead Captain Von Trapp and his seven resentful offspring. Maria immediately brings MUSIC! back into his life. The Captain is so grateful he dumps his savvy, svelte rich blonde Baroness to marry the boyish Fraulein Maria with her love of sensible shoes and syrupy Tyrolean ballads. Sadly, I missed the first ten minutes of the movie so I didn't get to hear the gang of nuns back at the abbey dissing Maria in that song called How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria which incidentally we hear them sing at her wedding a mere three hours later! It's a fairly passive aggressive little ditty in which the other nuns all bond by making up mean stuff about Maria (...underneath her wimple...she wears curlers in her hair!--oh she does not--her hair is like two inches long!) before the Mother Superior kicks her out and sends her off to catch a bus to the Von Trapp compound. For her trip away from the convent Maria carries a carpet bag she stole from Mary Poppins and wears an odd, pieced-leather hat, sort of a snug fitting beanie with a huge floppy brim. Perfect for warding off rain and sun and attention from the opposite sex! I kid. She's totally cute and the hat is actually kind of appealing in a Curious George Man With the Big Yellow Hat kind of way

Anyway, I noticed a few little things I hadn't before, in all my many, many viewings of this classic musical starring the lovely and sexless Julie Andrews. Such as--oh my god, the butler is a Nazi! And an informer! He's constantly prowling around the Von Trapp mansion lifting an eyebrow and then before you know it there's a Nazi officer at the door asking probing questions about the Captain's sex life. Also, every single male cast member is outfitted in snug pants and was definitely directed to play it homosexual. Captain VonTrapp? Prissy and gay. Uncle Max? Flamboyant and gay. Fourteen-year-old Friedrich? Repressed and gay. Ten-year-old Kurt? Adorable and gay.

The movie is endless and is full of disturbing close-ups of Maria in which the Gaussian blur is so thick I kept turning the TV volume up so I could hear through it. Oh, but then the Captain gets behind the blur so they can smooch--just a little!--and rub foreheads together because that is spelled out in Julie's contract--"for every event where my lips must meet those of my co-star I stipulate no less than four(4) instances of upper cranial contact lasting at least twenty seconds." You just know Julie's kinky, in a sleep-with-stuffed-animals-until-she's-forty kind of way.

So what got me through the long, long LONG three hours of prancing and sneering from Captain Von Trapp (played by the perpetually annoyed Christopher Plummer)? Three solid hours of watching all seven Von Trapp children parade around outfitted in amazingly ugly "playclothes" that gifted needlewoman Maria whipped up from her bedroom curtains (um, Scarlett O'Hara ripoff or what)? Incidentally the "children" include a very sophisticated sixteen-year-old girl who spends the entire movie plotting to get her junior Nazi boyfriend (panicky and gay) to notice her. Tip--lose the chartreuse paisley-patterned apron-front dirndl, honey.

I don't know. I lay back on the pillows of my bed, tossing back cough drops in a contented stupor. The Sound of Music is just a beautiful movie. Those damn awesome alps, the camera swooping us here and there up amidst the clouds and down amongst the edelweiss. The charming town of Salzburg with its, its --is that a Roman Coliseum the family performs in? Amazing. The cobblestone streets and the old buildings and the perfectly symmetrical VonTrapp family house... just perfect. Oh and the gorgeous wedding in the enormous Gothic Abbey--sigh. It is all so ornate yet simple and lovely. I couldn't tear myself away, not even to watch Battle Tomato on Iron Chef. And when the entire family trudges across the Alps to Switzerland to escape the Nazis I sat straight up and drank in every detail of the scene. I cheered for them. They're going to make it! Hurrah for freedom! And lederhosen! Hurrah for strudel and schnitzel! And warm copper kittens! (Wait--how does that song go?)

Obama on Beach!

2008-12-23T12:13:00.004-06:00

Our President-elect is spending the holidays in Hawaii and the press got a shot of him shirtless on the beach. Everyone's going nuts about it--and so of course I had to follow suit and post! Isn't that Barack a fine fellow? And see that white guy he's sitting on? That's his grandfather, Stanley, who by my estimate is about the same age in that photo as Obama is now.

The stick-wielding urchin in the background worries me, though.

Excellent Cake

2008-12-18T15:00:00.008-06:00

Looks a tad squishy but actually it was light and quite tender. And it should be-- it's made with a ton of butter! It's called Nantucket Cranberry Pie and isn't it just like those crazy Northeastern island type folk to call a cake a "pie"? Sheesh. Really it's something of an upside-down cake. (You could use any type of fruit in place of the cranberries but those poor little freaks have so few opportunities to shine that I like to wait all year to make this *ahem* pie, until bags of cranberries are cheap, fresh and ubiquitous. Don't tell the other fruits. They don't need to know.)

Nantucket Cranberry Pie

2 cups cranberries, chopped
1/2 cup walnuts or pecans, chopped
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup butter, melted
1/4 milk
1 tsp vanilla
2 tsp almond extract
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. baking powder

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a nine-inch cake pan, distribute cranberries and pecans evenly over bottom . Sprinkle with sugar, mix gently.

Mix butter with eggs and milk, add sugar, then stir in almond and vanilla extract. Combine flour, salt and baking powder in separate bowl. Add wet ingredients to dry, mix briefly but thoroughly and pour batter on top of cranberry/nut mixture. Bake approximately forty-five minutes, until golden brown on top. Let cool in pan for ten minutes, then invert onto serving plate, remove pan. (If any cranberries remain in baking pan, just stick back into place on cake.)

Daisy's Sunbeam

2008-12-17T11:36:00.007-06:00

I should get up. Go for a walk. Get some shopping done. Do some baking, for chrissake.

It's just that...that...um, I'm kind of tired. And I finally got warmed up. It's like, 10 degrees below zero out there, you know...

So I'll be right here if you need anything. Seriously. Call me! I mean, if it's important... Otherwise...um...y'know...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Stranger in a Strange Land

2008-12-15T11:36:00.008-06:00

Hey, remember me? I used to blog here pretty often. And then one day I stopped. I don't really know why--I think I got tired of the sound of my voice. Does that ever happen to you? You'll be halfway through the telling of a good story--speaking with verve and enthusiasm and then suddenly you hear yourself talking as if you're a stranger and you find yourself utterly bored. And you think--oh, my god, just listen to her--UGH!--listen to the droning, the nasal vowels, the incomprehensible sentence structure--OH MY GOD THAT WOMAN SOUNDS JUST LIKE SARAH PALIN! And you curse your Midwestern vocal chords and stop talking as fast as you can.

One quick question--have you noticed that bloggers are being referred to as "citizen journalists" these days? I really like it. It's unwieldy and has a faint militaristic ring to it. It says, prepare for battle, y'all. Heavy shit is about to go down across the land.

Also, I was in the strange land of northeastern Florida last week. My ears popped on the airplane and, since we took an afternoon flight and the sun sets by five o'clock even in the southern United States, we drove from Jacksonville to our rental in St. Augustine in total darkness. Couldn't see, couldn't hear, went out to dinner at a tiny French restaurant run by three handsome but somewhat drug-addled college boys. They kindly gave us the table in the front window and I always like that, except passerbys kept coming up to study the menu taped right there on the other side of the glass. Oh, and then I felt kind of sorry for one extemely stylish couple--stockings, necktie-- who walked in and announced they had made reservations "just for dessert". The restaurant was ninety percent empty but the glamorous duo insisted on a table right next to the only other diners --t-shirts, flip flops--and downed their espressos and spooned up their creme brulees in complete silence. Well, not much going on in St. Augustine on a Thursday night.

Let's Charleston!

2008-12-12T20:03:00.000-06:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Dance, My Pretties!

2008-12-11T21:49:00.001-06:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

2008-12-03T17:37:00.001-06:00

Every Bird Should Have the Chance to Fly

2008-12-03T13:58:00.004-06:00

Washington State Lottery came up with this ad gambit and I really love it. Fly little penguin! Strap yourself into a hang-glider and spread your wings and SOAR!

My Craigslist Adventure

2008-11-26T09:49:00.007-06:00

craigslist.org/subject=FOUNDKeys (Uptown) Date: 2008-11-09, 8:40PM CST
I found a car key. Tell me what kind of car and what else is on the ring and I will be happy to return them to you.
Location: Uptown

Hi

I lost the key to my Toyota Highlander in the area of 23rd and Lyndale. Not much on the ring except the key itself and the lock/unlock device! Any chance that is what you found?

Roz

Sent: Monday, November 24, 2008 8:48 PM
Subject: RE: FOUND Keys (Uptown)
Hi Roz -
That sounds like what I found. I found them over closer by the Wedge. Any chance you were over there? Anyways, I hope they're yours. I can drop them to you someplace tomorrow if you'd like and we can see if they open your car!
I am working in Eagan until 2.
Let me know what works for you,
Sara

Mon, 24 Nov 2008 21:09:26 -0600
Subject: RE: FOUND Keys (Uptown)

Hi Sara,

Wow--I am thrilled! Yes, I was in that vicinity--thought maybe they dropped out of pocket or purse at Cafe Caffetto.

I can meet you whenever you have time after work--are you in Minneapolis?

Thank you so much!

Roz

Sent: Tuesday, November 25, 2008 12:54 PM
Subject: RE: FOUND Keys (Uptown)

Hi Roz - Yes, I live downtown by the Old Spaghetti Factory. I'll be home about 2:30 or so. Where would you like to meet? Is your car stuck somewhere (I hope you have another set!)? I'd like to make sure they're the right keys. Sara

Date: Tue, 25 Nov 2008 13:20:51 -0600
Subject: Re: FOUND Keys (Uptown)

Hi Sara,

I understand and really appreciate your concern about making sure they are the right keys. And I do have a spare I've been using but really miss the lost one as it has the remote start etc. on it.

What would be good for you--I live in SW Minneapolis, 46th St. I am happy to meet downtown or anywhere in-between.

Thanks,
Roz

Subject: Re: FOUND Keys (Uptown)

Hi Roz - Could you meet me downtown? I'll be walking my dog at Gold Medal Park (by the New Guthrie on S 2nd St) about 3 today. There are street parking spots there. I'll have on a long black coat and my dog is a little white with black French Bulldog. Hope this works for you!Sara

Subject: Re: FOUND Keys (Uptown)

Sure--I'll find you--I'll be in a belted brown jacket and I'll have my fingers crossed!

Roz

Subject: Re: FOUND Keys (Uptown)

OK! :) I'll have my cell phone with me just in case... 860-343-****. I sure hope they're yours!

Sara

(They were! Hurrah!)

When Manbunnies Attack!

2008-11-15T16:18:00.001-06:00

2008-11-12T20:25:00.000-06:00

2008-11-09T10:48:00.000-06:00

2008-11-07T16:34:00.000-06:00

2008-11-06T05:39:00.001-06:00

Aw, the boys are dressed up for Halloween!

2008-10-13T13:43:00.002-05:00

You two look GREAT!! Ready for a photo? Okay. One-two-three! SMILE!

Oh, Barack...you wreck every damn photo I try to take of you boys!

Bi-Partisan BFFs?

2008-10-12T12:21:00.011-05:00

Hillary: R U there? I have like 2 seconds to chat!

McCain: OMG! I am SO sick of BO (haha!)

H: OMG--I know exactly how u feel. It is SO unfair!! Just because BO (ha ha!) is new, all the CNN guys LOVE his ass!

M: Totally agree! Liberal media elite is totally BO's (haha!) bitch like 24/7!

H: ROFLMAO! Hey did u and yr peeps find more dirt on BO(haha!)?

M: Just the Ayers thing again! Ha ha! I told Sarah to rip on BO (haha!) at the Wisc assembly and she totally did it! Ha ha! Also, do u thnk First Dude is hot y/n

H: Yes but don't tell Bill! Haha!

M: BTW have you seen pix of me when I was a pilot? Cindy says I am SO much hotter than BO(haha!)

H: Yeah BO (haha!) is such a pencil neck geek! Gross!

M: But have you seen pix of me in my Navy Whites? Srsly, I was smokin'!

H: U R totally skeeving me!

M: Do u want to see the pix? y/n I'll send some as soon as Cindy shows me how!

H: Oops, got 2 go! C U L8R

Time to Start a Christmas Wish List!

2008-10-11T09:08:00.002-05:00

Food Chain Friends are from Daro, a small green planet much like Earth was 200 million years ago. Daro teems with wildlife, and its exceptionally social and gracious species flourish in a complex - but oddly, very friendly - ecosystem. They're friends. They eat each other. It's a complicated relationship

Complicated relationship? Maybe...and yet..isn't life somehow MUCH simpler on Daro?

Molten Chocolate Cake

2008-10-09T10:34:00.008-05:00

Around here we're all pretty nostalgic about Molten Chocolate Cake. We used to order one and ask for five spoons whenever we had dinner at our nearby Chili's in Sarasota, roughly every week from 1997-2001. (Afterwards we'd drive across busy Highway 41 and stop in at Barnes and Noble. Then if it was still even barely light outside we'd pull in at a tiny neighborhood park and the kids, insane with sugar, would charge around in the gathering darkness for twenty minutes, mostly just tripping over each other's feet while I sat in the van reading whatever book I had just purchased. Was that negligent? Sorry, kids...! ) But you know, I can still hear the clashing of those thin metal spoons as we fought for the best bits of warm chocolate cake with creamy vanilla ice cream melting down the sides. And I can see the wild look in the chilldren's eyes as they vied to scrape every last bit of chocolate and caramel sauce off the serving plate. Should have brought the video camera and recorded that for posterity. That was our real life.

Anyway! Everyday Lad was the engine behind this project, this make-our-own-molten-cake. I assuredly was the one who snottily informed him some time ago that although we are mere mortals and not a multi-billion dollar restuarant franchise we could make this cake. And we did, using a recipe from that most unpopular and hence my favorite edition of the Joy of Cooking, the one that came out in 2002 or 2003 and was immediately reviled as being not dowdy enough. Seriously, that cookbook has fantastic recipes--tapas and tamales and pot au feus, creme brulees and molten chocolate cake. Plus --as an unexpected bonus the cake is completely wheat and gluten-free, so everyone in the family could grab a spoon and do battle like it was 1999.

How's it look? (It tasted wonderful, although perhaps a bit too chocolately. And we forgot caramel sauce. Here's the scene about four seconds after I called "GO!")

2008-10-09T10:00:00.001-05:00

Recipe

2008-10-09T03:19:00.000-05:00

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Butter and sugar a 2 cup baking mold.

In the top of a double boiler or in a microwave, melt together and stir until smooth:

6 oz dark chocolate
6 tablespoons butter

Sift in:
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa

Stir until smooth. In a medium mixing bowl, beat on medium until soft peaks form:

4 large egg whites
pinch cream of tartar

Gradually add, beating on high:

2 tablespoons sugar

Beat until stiff peaks form. Fold one quarter of eggwhites into chocolate mixture, then fold in the remaining whites. Fill mold and bake until cake is cracked on top but still gooey in the center, about twenty to twenty-five minutes. Let sit for a few minutes then unmold. Serve hot, topped with vanilla ice cream and "Magic Shell" chocolate sauce. Drizzle with caramel syrup if desired.

Sliders!

2008-10-07T14:22:00.011-05:00

Sliders are those delicious tiny hamburgers that have enjoyed a vogue in the past year or two. And although they've appeared at all sorts of groovy venues we all have to acknowlege that the progenitor of the craze is scary old White Castle, who continued to sell tiny, cheap burgers and never went out of business even when those bigger, meatier and messier hamburgers ruled the fast food scene for decades.

I made sliders the other night. I'd been given a recipe from Bon Appetit but I have to say that it all just seemed too fancy. It asked for a nifty homemade tomato sauce and suggested that leafy greens get tucked into the tiny bun. As if! So I cruised around online and found a resource that indicated that the secret to making a true White Castle burger is to add unorthodox ingredients such as reconstituted dried onion flakes, beef bouillon, and a jar or two of pureed beef baby food. What we're allegedly after, apparently, is the ensuing cooking stench. Legend has it that while frying a true White Burger has an ungodly smell, a rank, vile aroma that can easily trigger gag reflexes. So, you know, I bailed on that whole project, too. Stinking up the kitchen on purpose just seems a wee bit declasse. Instead, I came up with a home version of the greasy spoon slider by combining key elements from all sources.

1. I used the beef, veal, pork combo suggested by Bon Appetit. Also per their instructions, I threw in some grated Parmesan and an egg.

2. I figured onion was extemely important to the whole diner aspect of the project so for approximately a pound and a half of meat I chopped and sauteed (in butter) a medium white onion and mixed it in.

3. I formed the patties into thin, square shapes, very much the way White Castle does. They cook almost instantly, even if you don't poke four holes in each burger with a straw (recommended by the same people adding baby food to their meat mix).

4. Fried them over high heat and set the miniature buns in the pan to warm and crisp up in the burger grease a bit.

Traditionally sliders come with one or two pickle slices on each burger, but we have some really good homemade green tomato relish right now (a gift), so that's what these little guys got topped with and it was a stroke of genius.

Tomorrow--I'll recreate the Molten Lava Chocolate Cake from Chili's Bar and Grill because fine dining continually inspires me!

Unbalanced Local Giggles at Misfortune

2008-10-06T12:16:00.010-05:00

I am aware that crime is not a joke. I assure you. But... does anyone else find police reports that are published in small, community newspapers to be absolutely hilarious? Is this an indication that there is something terribly, terribly wrong with me? When I read the neighborhood crime report out loud to my family I invariably break down and weep with laughter. (Oh, yes, they laugh, too, but I am beginning to suspect it is out of pure nervousness at the sight of me losing control.)

Here are highlights from the local crime scene.

A teenage girl was stopped by an unknown suspect while walking a dog. The suspect stole the victim's cell phone and fled in an unknown direction.

A suspect took $15 from a man's hand while he was making change. The suspect then fled into a nearby apartment building even though he didn't live there.

Two security cameras were stolen from a resident's home. The incident was recorded with audio and video.

A sixteen-year-old was spotted hiding items and trying to leave without paying at a store. Police identified the teenager and released him to his mother.

A suspect entered a 23-year-old male's duplex by cutting the screen on a front window. The suspect stole one item and left through the front door, leaving a sweatshirt behind.

A suspect filled a plastic shopping bag with merchandise and left through the "in" door at a local store.

A 2007 Harley-Davidosn was taken from an underground parking garage only accessible by a card key. There were no signs of recent tracks in the dirt.

A man living in an assisted living facility said he saw someone enter his room while he was gone. He wants a report made to document the incident.

A resident had left her car parked outside her house with the windows open for fresh air. An unknown suspect broke into the car and turned the lights on.

For me, those italicised parts are perfectly unnecessary bits of information that make the report come alive. I appreciate the lovely insight into human nature. I can almost hear the victim's voice supplying those great details (sometimes of course abetted by police report officialese). And serioulsy I want to offer all of this month's victims sympathy for the traumatic event that led them to call the police. I hope everyone's recovered their stuff and their cars work and their cell phones are back with no interruption of service. And that that sweatshirt is wearable.

Oh, Johnny, Say It Ain't So!

2008-10-04T09:12:00.006-05:00

And as for the rest of you, say what you will about Sarah Palin-- the perfect horror who is the Republican party's vice-presidential candidate--go on, say it! I LOVE hearing all this perceptive invective. It frees me up to loll back in the couch cushions, telephone or TV remote in hand and bask in the glory that is your unleashed brilliance. To have the luxury to align myself with the authentic and extreme and indignant response to this disgrace, this insult inflicted upon Americans by John "Crustiest-Cheerleader-for-Ronald-Reagan-And-Saddest-Example-Of-Living-In-The-Ancient-History-Of-The-1980s-That-There-Ever-Was" McCain. I am positively giddy with delight at the way a majority of our nation absolutely recoils with revulsion whenever Gov. Palin opens her mouth. Oh, it is SO exciting to feel this HUGE bond across our country. Everyone, everywhere, hurrying home Thursday evening to watch the Palin-Biden debate. Every single one of you fascinated and angry and sputtering with rage and delicious insight. Ahhhhhhhhhh.

Anyone have a cigarette?

2008-10-02T12:06:00.000-05:00

Tuscan Vegetable Soup with Bread

2008-10-02T10:27:00.007-05:00

1/4 cup olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 rib of celery, trimmed and diced
1/2 cup diced red pepper (optional)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 cup carrots, sliced then then roughly chopped
1 bunch red chard, stems cut into small pieces, greens sliced into ribbons
2-3 medium tomatoes, chopped or 1 15 oz can diced tomatoes
1 quart chicken stock
3 15 oz. cans cannellini or kidney beans, drained, 1 can pureed
teaspoon red pepper flakes
approximately 1/2 cup fresh basil, chopped

Heat olive oil in large soup pot. Cook onion until soft, add celery, red pepper, garlic, carrots and chard stems. Saute for about ten minutes then add chard greens Stir until wilted. Add tomatoes and chicken stock, then beans and bean puree. Simmer for approximately twenty minutes, adding basil and red pepper flakes halfway through. To each serving add a slice of lightly toasted bread torn into cubes. Top with grated Parmesan cheese.

In Which A S-H-R-I-N-E-R Talks Me Out of Some M-O-N-E-Y

2008-10-01T11:28:00.010-05:00

I got a call from a gruff but friendly Shriner last night. He alleged that I had been a generous supporter of the Shriners for the past few years and gave me an admirably concise tale of Shriner woe. All about the children. Who need to go to the circus. SO many children. Would I be even more generous this year? Oh, sure, yes, boost me up to that intermediate level of support! Because I believe all children should have the opportunity to go to the circus and see portly community-minded men wearing tassel-festooned hats just like cartoon monkeys. And elephants peeing like an opened fire hydrant in the summer city heat. And eat bags of clumped-up cotton candy and cold prepackaged peanuts illustrated with nostalgia-tinged drawings of old-fashioned circus fun. To watch wild tigers and lions trapped in small cages emerge angry and eager to run wild through the auditorium and--

*Ahem*

The Shriner cleared his throat and I snapped back to reality:

Great, he said. Mrs. Everyday Roz, that is just great. Here's what I need you to do!

1. Get a pen.

2. Did you get a pen? Okay, make your check out to Z-U-H-R-A-H S-H-R-I-N-E C-I-R-C-U-S.
And don't forget to write "circus," he admonished. Otherwise those hospital people might get it.

3. Now, put the check in a plastic sandwich bag. Oh, and write "For Deposit Only" on it somewhere, okay?

4. Put the plastic bag under your front door doormat. A Shriner will be by tomorrow to pick it up!

5. Thank you, Mrs. Everyday Roz. You say hello to (traditional nickname never used by Mr. Everyday Roz), alright?

Well. Isn't that a nifty procedure? I admit that (traditional nickname) finds the Shriner (and me by proxy) to be freaking insane. But I am charmed. At this very moment the plastic sandwich baggie is peeking out from under the doormat and I have only had to rescue it from the alarmed and confused clutches of two visitors so far this morning!

2008-09-30T16:25:00.000-05:00

Ten Seconds at the Edina Theater

2008-09-28T09:21:00.013-05:00

I must confess that I once had a gripping, unforgettable moment with Paul Newman while still in grade school, if you can imagine that! It happened while sitting in a dark movie theater, watching Sometimes a Great Notion, which was itself purely an accident. The movie three or four of us in the family had originally trolled up to our neighborhood theater to see had ended its run and so we bought tickets for Sometimes a Great Notion, without really knowing anything about it. Because our ride home wouldn't be by for quite awhile and we didn't want to walk home and damn it, we were all set for a movie . Anyway, one of the older girls surely knew who Paul Newman was. And I? Well, I had money for a box of root beer barrels and by God if it meant sitting in the dark for two hours watching some incomprehensible adult drama unfold, that would be just fine. At twenty-five cents, those boxes of movie candy were expensive but large. I knew I'd get through the ordeal.

Well. The movie turned out to be vaugely comprehensible, after all. It was about a family living in Oregon, all wearing red flannel shirts and cutting down trees. There was tension and shouting and gray, rain-filled skies. Mud. Brothers. And then an accident. Paul Newman's character got trapped beneath something--what was it--something big, something heavy--oh, it must have been a tree. And the rain kept falling and there was flooding or could it have been the tide coming in? It didn't matter. What mattered was that Paul's character knew he was about to drown. And his brother (or brother-in-law?) kept him alive for awhile by supplying him with his own oxygen, delivered mouth-to-mouth. So desperately serious in his life and death endeavor, yeah, seeing that really made an impact on me. But it was the trapped brother--Mr. Newman in his prime-- and my sudden ability to see the way he played his character's response that shocked me and in just a few seconds widened my perception of human existence. Because, oh, my GOD. His character goofed on the fact that the two men were sort of kissing. He did it entirely with his eyes, communicating brotherly intimacy and hilarity, making the doomed situation into a wait-until-the-guys hear-what-I-made-you-do moment. Trying to take care of his weeping brother by holding onto his gaze while facing his own death. Phew. Complex, profound stuff.

And I confess that in the past twenty-four hours the frequent references to Paul Newman's amazing blue eyes have led me to this still unanswered question.

When did I stop buying root beer barrels at the movies?

2008-09-27T15:38:00.000-05:00

Bill Love

2008-09-25T08:36:00.008-05:00

It's been fun to get a glimpse of Bill Clinton making the talk show rounds recently--I like that suit he's always wearing, the gray one with the pink pinstripe. It complements his no-longer-quite-so-florid-complexion so well. I mean the pink does, not the gray. And wow, Clinton is such a smart man--loved how he didn't shirk from using the word "vicissitudes" while speaking of Sarah Palin's putative appeal to small town voters, which is beautifully ironic, because who among us speaks that way? Who else but Bill would defiantly raise up his jaw and look Larry King dead in the eye and drop a four syllable doppelganger for "trouble" right in his yeah-I-get-Sarah-and-I-know-why-those -Crackers-love-her-ass* apology?

Oh, Bill. You're a charming fellow but a terrifying one. You were so good on The Daily Show but all that grabbing of Jon Stewart's forearm? Ouch. You're the master of people handling and you're a big, big, intuitive personality so I want to know--did you feel Jon was trying to get away from you somehow? Was his evil little comedic spirit attempting to break free and use you for laughs, right there in front of you as you sat at his shiny black desk holding forth brilliantly as you always do, on just what-all Hillary has done for Barack Obama's campaign (hint: more than anyone else ever in the whole wide world since God made all those little green apples!) I mean I don't blame you, Jon is one smirky dude. But now he's got some bruises on his skinny little-girl arm. From a former President! I hope you weren't miffed at him, Bill, 'cause from where I was sitting he was with you all the way. He's a Jew and a New York Liberal from waaaaaay back. He loves your big Cracker ass. We all do.

Nostalgia!

2008-09-24T09:37:00.004-05:00

Ah, doesn't this little video take you back? Waaay back? I remember sending this around years and years ago, waaaaaaaaaaaay BEFORE YouTube, people! It's Internet ancient history--just now I took a look at the comments written below the video over at YouTube and most of them were of the "OMG--takes me back to 5th grade!" Or,"OMG--this video TOTALLY corrupted me!" Ha! I say, stop reminiscing and get back to work, kids--your wife's on line two and I hear the boss coming down the hall!

A New Friend

2008-09-22T08:42:00.005-05:00

Met a new dog yesterday--a pugle. He was quite deferential to Poppa and Baby, crouching as soon as he spotted our schnauzer juggernaut advancing, his tail raised high and waving like a white flag of surrender. (What kind of tail, you ask? The kind that makes you start chanting--to yourself, of course-...snips and snails and puppy dog tails*... The tail was small and active and a little too long for its owner.) And what is a pugle you add. Ah! Good question! It is a cross between a beagle and a pug. If you have always wanted a beagle but thought, "Nah---they just aren't brown enough. And if only beagles came with perpetually furrowed brows! That would be the dog for ME." Well! The man I met yesterday has solved this problem. His little dog looks exactly like a regular old beagle who rooted around in the closet and found a sort of wrinkly caramel colored coat lying underneath the boots and umbrellas. And decided to wear it forever. Perfect! Plus the guy gets to walk around saying pugle all the time. Me? I've always wanted to breed a schnauzer with a Shih Tzu. And tell people that the puppies are Shit Nauzes.

*Ever read All Over Town by Carol Ryrie Brink? She's best known as the author of Caddie Woodlawn which is the wonderful story of her pioneer grandmother's childhood in Wisconsin. The sequel, Magical Melons is also very, very good. All Over Town is the story of her father's childhood, circa 1900. And he and his brother actually collected puppy dog tails, vying to be first on the scene when the inevitable moment of docking occurs for local litters in order to scoop up the bloody little ends and use them to trade for, oh, I don't know, maybe bottle caps and marbles and pieces of string. You know, good stuff. Riches.

SURPRISE!

2008-09-20T11:16:00.003-05:00

Wow--Everyday Lad's pals pulled it off--a real surprise birthday party. Yeah, Mini-Me crashed it--I didn't know he'd stowed away in the back seat and then we had to let him come along, I mean, how rude to make him wait out in the car all night as we partyed with the kids. But just look at that expression on his little face--he might just be having even more fun than Everyday Lad!

Think that's even possible?

True Love

2008-09-19T11:17:00.003-05:00

Thanks to this ad I am suddenly in love with my furnace--isn't he a jolly, intrepid fellow? Hmm...hey, furnace? Want to hitchhike out West with me?

2008-09-17T10:32:00.000-05:00

New Tags All Around!

2008-09-17T09:19:00.004-05:00

I occasionally feel the need to rename my dogs. I've written about this before, and am wondering now if maybe it is an annual thing? An urge born of some misplaced desire to change with the seasons, to go, to move, to take myself off to Paris and live in a garret charmingly furnished with castoff bits of furniture? To hitchhike out West, thumb out, tossing my backpack into the open bed of the first noisy pickup that rumbles to a stop for me? To leave while autumn is still hanging over us like a pale harvest moon...to follow the birds who know to fly away... Well, yeah, the fear of winter's approach may make me crazy, sure, that's another way of saying it, I guess.

Anyway--Buster and Daisy have recently undergone some updates to the old nomenclature. There's just been so many inspirational names out there! I've toyed with Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae-- who hasn't, right? I liked those, I really did. A resident wit sort of wrecked it, though, by pretending to get a little mixed up and calling the dogs Subprime and Bailout. Ha ha. Oh, but then there's the whole hurricane business. Woo, boy! Ike is some powerful stuff! Maybe too powerful for Buster, but he rode with it for a day or so. Of course callling him Ike just begged for a Tina matchup, but who could saddle a mismatched pair of schnauzers who are routinely mistaken for a mommy and her pup with that level of dysfunctionality, even on the downlow?

So I moved on. This next one involves kind of a long story but suffice it to say, one or two of us apparenly has long misheard the colloquialism "cop" (meaning "to grab" or "to help oneself") as "pop." So the (albeit little-used) expression, "cop a squat" became "pop a squat." I was hearing it around the house with increasing frequency and finally had to correct the perpetrator. Oh, she writhed around and tried to defend her mistake, but I prevailed. I did, however, offer as a consolation to the chagrined teen the opportunity to slap Buster (figuratively speaking, of course!) with the shiny new handle, Poppa Squat. What can I say, it just came naturally! "But what will we call Daisy?" wondered the teen. And flap flap flap! Inspiration flew right in through that open garret fenetre, it blew through the cranked-down window of that Chevy pickup flying down sunny Interstate 70. "We shall call her...Baby Squirt."

And so it is. And so it shall be.

Until next fall.

Woo Hoo!

2008-09-16T10:46:00.006-05:00

Happy Birthday to Everyday Lad who turns SIXTEEN today. I thought he'd be pretty happy about the quasi-legitness of the number but he says it is still not old enough. He believes himself to be an eighteen or nineteen-year-old who somehow, and he'd really like to know HOW this happened, got mired and trapped in the lower numbers. Sorry about that, Lad! At least you are older than this poor little child, marooned on the beaches of Oregon without a shirt. As I remember, he was waiting for his BFFs The Pow-Pow-Power Rangers to come get him. Back then the Lad was always saving the day for the Power Rangers, always getting them out of a jam. "Thank you, Lad! We don't know what we'd do without you!" Then the PPPR would fly away and Everyday Lad would do a few karate kicks to let off steam after the stress of having saved the world from evil.

Ha Cha!

2008-09-15T07:37:00.005-05:00

Last week I made myself the best sandwich. I used toasted hemp bread, thin slices of Israeli feta cheese, sliced garden tomato and basil. Man, it was good! Then I ran out of the beautiful feta. So sad. Then one of us went shopping and brought the feta back into the house! Hurrah! I bustled around toasting up bread and slicing up some cheese only to discover--no tomatoes sitting around on the counter waiting to be sliced up and only green ones out on the tomato plant. Ack! Hard luck, right? But listen-- I didn't give up. I got freaky. I sliced up a beautiful ripe peach and laid those slices right on top of the cheese, just like it was a tomato. With some black pepper ground on top. And I ate it. And it was so good I immediately made myself another one.

My family shunned me but you shouldn't. Okay? Okay? Just look how beautiful it is!

A Joyful Day

2008-09-12T10:00:00.005-05:00

Okay, so planes continued to fly and gee, absolutely all television shows were broadcast yesterday. I had NO impact on 9/11. Hmph. Well, I will say I was completely unmoved by the skimpy coverage of the anniversary of the day but that's okay. My stony heart got a workout regardless of the date.

First of all--I reunited a puppy with his owner! Puppy was a lost Westie, owner was a college girl visiting her parents on the street behind ours. Her puppy ambled off through a hole in the fence and was gone for a couple of hours before I found him. When she drove up to us, she literally fell out of her car, weeping with joy, tears of concern still damp on her cheeks. Aw. It was so moving I actually had to stop coveting the puppy, who was really, really friendly and also seemed to want to come live with me. Bye, Milo. Next time you go all Peter Rabbit on a garden gate, put some ID tags on your collar, okay?

And then last night there was more joy. Quiet but satisfied joy in witnesssing the beginning of reality where Gov. Sarah Palin is concerned. Wow, her interview with Charlie Gibson on ABC was sad. She sounded completely ordinary and looked scared and exhausted. I felt almost sorry for her. Almost. Let's hear it for reality catching up with McCain's campaign!

The Second Tuesday in September

2008-09-11T09:58:00.003-05:00

Seven years ago this morning I was annoyed because when I turned on my computer at around 8:30 AM my homepage, The Washington Post wouldn't load. "Oh, what now?" I whined at the screen for a few seconds and tapped around at the keyboard a couple of times. The monitor stayed black. Then I gave up because in my experieince persistence in the face of technological problems just makes things worse. I went off to take a shower and when I got out the phone was ringing. It was my friend Crick asking me if I knew about all this weird stuff that happening in New York. No, I didn't. We hung up, I put down my comb and turned on my television. The first airplane had already exploded into the World Trade Towers. Moments later I watched as the second airplane hit the second tower and one of my sisters must have called because I remember hearing myself talking over her voice. "There's another plane, there's another one, you've got to go turn on your TV!" Horror and disbelief, heartbroken rage at witnessing an event that was killing people, listening with barebones empathy to voices ragged with devastation--it all started that morning and of course for some people, for many people, those emotions have continued on a daily basis every single day since the highjacking of those four airplanes.

September 11, 2001 was the second Tuesday of the month. It was such a beautiful blue and gold fall day here in Minneapolis, and in New York as well, I hear. School was just starting for children in Manhattan, parents were walking their first and second-graders into classes. Then those airplanes crashed in the World Trade Towers and everything just stopped. Everywhere across the United States for days and days and then that tuned into weeks and weeks. Nothing. No flights, no broadcasts. Just footage of chaos. Nothing but an entire nation staring at their televisions in disbelief.

Do we want ourselves to remember what happened that day? Because for those of us without a relative or friend involved in the September 11 2001 horrors, it's getting easier to forget as the years go by, isn't it? And this year in particular, political coverage just about pushed remembrance stories right off the front page. News reporters are bringing their best writing to brutal pieces exposing Republican candidates, or searing op-eds attempting to demonize the Democrats. I congratulate these reporters on their achievments but still. Should we perhaps be woking harder to remember the day America got her wake-up call? Should we work to bring it back on a visceral level?

Should we? I'm not sure, but if we want to remember here's what we have to do. Here goes: The second Tuesday in September should be a blackout. Nothing should happen. No airline flights. Stores closed. Replay the footage over and over for twenty-four hours. Sit and stare at your television. Go outside. Strain your ears to hear the sound of a jet engine high above your city--you won't hear a thing.

This photo haunts me

2008-09-09T15:06:00.002-05:00

Not because I am pictured age five standing next to a snow rabbit created by a loving and talented older sister. Not because this jolly snow rabbit haunted my waking hours for days (the inside of his ears and his ever-so-slightly-creepy smile were made out of red corduroy sacrificed from a pair of my old overalls which I am sure were too small for me but still--I was shocked to see them cannibalized in such a callous fashion). No, no, it's not the snow rabbit at all--I must interject here that I can take not even the tiniest bit of credit for anything about the creation, being no help at all as I well remember. I mean, I was there standing aorund but I recall that I was under the impression "we" were building a snowman and being apparently a child with no imagination I was shocked to find this-- this --this creature of fantasy appear on the front lawn, standing in the very spot I had readied myself to welcome the regular old cliche of a snowman, that eyes-of-coal-and-carrot-for-a-nose top hat fellow. I really doted on cliche.

Anyway, the worrisome aspect of this photo is the shoes. Not only are they HUGE (and I am sure I insisted on wearing some older siblings shoes--most likely my own shoes had offended me by being um, brown or had a shoelace that was knotted or I could feel a lump on the inside or something equally dire was making me cry--) but they seem to be on the wrong feet. Jesus.

Also? The hands in the pocket? Issues with mittens.

Yeah, I was a complete party as a child. Hey, everyone? Sorry about all that. I'm better now!

2008-09-07T21:46:00.001-05:00

The Last King of Scotland

2008-09-07T11:24:00.019-05:00

You know, Richard McAvoy is the most naked actor I've ever seen. And I'm not saying that just because we see him pantless on the big screen several times in the brilliant and brutal The Last King of Scotland, a movie that spends forty sty;ish minutes playing around in the warm and colorful Ugandan sunshine before taking us down, down, horribly down to a cold hotel basement where unbelievably sadistic punishments ordered by dictator Idi Amins are performed. We don't recover from the bizarre and bloody sights, of course, and neither do the characters--but we aren't meant to. So I'm clinging to my early memories of the movie--the equatorial light of the African village where laughing children play catch. I'm remembering the way McAvoys' unknown young man shrugs in playful expectation as he rides a crowded bus towards something never imagined. In this early part of the movie I love the way director Kevin MacDonald so casually portrays those easy relationships of youth, the ones that spring up instantly, from nothing into intimacy. I miss those.

During these sunny early times, Richard McAvoy's character Nicholas Garrigan, a very young Scottish doctor with a few little maturity problems stemming from a big father issue reacts to the opportunities that come his way with a rare and almost unsettling openness. That's where the nakedness comes in. McAvoy's ability to play a nuanced response across his entire face can at times make a viewer feel more like a voyeur than audience. Yeah, it's that personal, the way he blanches and squints and lifts an eyebrow and blushes. (I really can't imagine how he brings heat to his features right on cue but he does.) We see this lighthearted character become fearful, confused and then, inevitably, physically and psychologically crushed by his friendship with the madman he has so carelessly allowed himself to become involved with.

Forrest Whittaker is the big man who stars as Ugandan President Idi Amin and he truly works it out, he brings all the power he can to portraying an unbridled tyrant with enough crazy charm and animal intuition to make viewers almost understand how how a psycotic despot ends up in charge of a nation. He's enormous and his imposing Amin improbably adores the little Scottish doctor. Partly for his political obliviousness--Garrigan has no knowledge of possibilites of Amin's terroristic regime, hence no fear of the dictator-- but mostly because Dr. Garrigan is Scottish. Amin was in the British Army alongside Scots, he says he would rather be a Scotsman than any anthing else on earth, "except a Ugandan". Before events veer towards painful mayhem the President is training choirs of Ugandans to sing "Loch Lomond" (and wearing a kilt while he watches) as a treat for his "closeest political advisor", our medical naif.

The movie--set in the early 1970's--shows the Ugandan capital of Kampala in all the modern sleekness of that era. New buildings flaunt the outward prosperity of the new regime and are shot in clean geometric frames. Our small white Scottish doctor moves easily between the lightness and darkness of the new world he has landed in, a world of surprises and privelege, a world where he is finally but briefly, the spoiled son of a powerful and generous father.

There's so much stunning photography and amazing acting in this movie. Don't be afraid. Go rent it.

The Last King of Scotland is adapted from a novel by Giles Fodean. The character of Nicholas Garrigan is a fictional composite drawn from several different real-life sources.

Want to Witness A Riot?

2008-09-06T09:22:00.003-05:00

Not the kind in Minneapolis recently involving Mace and quasi-police state shenanigans and the RNC. No, the flower kind. The wait-all-year-until-everything-peaks-at-once, when everything in your yard breaks out in red and yellow and orange and blue.

Well done, mystery lady whom we can see weeding sort of left of center above. I think we'd all like to know if this visual explosion of color evolved or was a plan and if you are aware that your house is the size of a child's playhouse? It is a most charming sight, though. I liked the music you had playing too--sounded current but quite melodious. My favorite.

And Now A Few Words From The Colbert Report

2008-09-05T11:03:00.001-05:00

Posted in sympathy for readers who don't have the Comedy Channel--the Stephen Colbert and John Stewart shows have made all this RNC torture bearable!

Hi Sarah!

2008-09-04T08:26:00.009-05:00

Sarah! Over here! Hi, Sarah! Hi! I like your hair, Sarah!

"Stay where you are, bitch! I've got half a pound of last week's salmon hidden up in this thing and I'm licensed by the State of Alaska to use it to cause you and all your liberal buddies MORE GRIEF THAN YOU EVER KNEW EXISTED!"

Okay, okay. Sorry! Just wanted to know if you wanted to sit with me and my friends at lunch. My mom made carrot cake and I brought a piece for you. Never mind! I'll see you in Geography, though okay? Okay? Bye, Sarah!

Whoa, doggies! Who'd have ever thought we as a nation would reach a point in history when there's a chance we'd be governed at the highest level by a Mean Girl? Isn't she inspiring? Bet little girls all across America are standing in front of their bathroom mirrors trying to perfect that dismissive nose scrunch and angry little lip curl. Because Gov. Palin just looks so cute when she's lying* doesn't she?

*You name it, she's publically dissembled on it. Earmarks, "The Bridge to Nowhere", Obama's remarks about poverty-ridden small towns...

The Way We Roll, Snack-Wise

2008-09-02T14:19:00.005-05:00

Prowl around at your grocery store and discover that you can, for an ungodly sum, procure a tiny plastic pot of truffle butter. Buy it as a gift for your husband, who never eats expensive steaks or drinks expensive booze. Bask in the appreciation he shows while he tears into a baguette, loading it with hefty smears of the really almost magically complex and delicious truffle butter. A few days later, revel in finding the tiny pot half full and half hidden behind the cottage cheese just at a moment when you are in dire need of something really good to eat. Chocolate cookie dough would be good. A cheeseburger with avocado and bacon would be good. Or...you could pop the lid of this little tiny tub and yeah, sure, I guess you could let it soften a little bit...then you could grab that bag of kettle chips, plop down in front of CNN (or PBS if The Vicar of Dibley happens to be on!) and go ahead and dip your kettle potato chips in butter. Butter that has been infused with bits of fresh black truffles. Potatoes that have been deep fried and then salted. Ha! You heard it here first.

Have You Met My Sisters? I Have A Bunch!

2008-08-31T21:39:00.019-05:00

In between scoping out the Democratic National Convention and keeping up with headlines from the Republican camp, I've been busy organizing my bookshelves and files. And I came across everyone's highschool graduation photos--check it out!

That's my oldest sister above. Even in high school, she was just SO sophisticated! I always thought she'd marry the President or something. Or have a TV show. About marrying the President. Or maybe a show about having an identical cousin move in and the ensuing hijinks. I would SO watch either one of those! I love hijinks, don't you?

Oh, gosh. Remember long hair? I mean, LONG hair? Shining, beautiful, down to there hair? Yeah, this is one of the younger girls. One time she got asked out on a date by one of the Bush boys but she was too busy ironing her hair to take the call. She's not sorry though--says she could never spend her days wearing a red pantsuit and matching lipstick. There's a contract First Ladies have to sign about that, you know!

Don't you love this sister? Gee, she's always been a sweetheart. I remember helping her set her hair with pink sponge rollers and Dippity Do. She's a neat lady, now. Tons of fun. Don't get her started on Hillary, though! They were roomies at Wellesley and to this day have their own secret language. I can't read it but I found this note and am wondering if you can decipher it..."ouryay urntay ithway illbay omorrowtay, okayay?"

Oh, and this is another one of the older girls.. She studied hard and got such good grades. She got her ya-ya's out by throwing a few elbows on the college basketball court and was runner-up in a couple of beauty pageants! Wow! She's always had a dream of moving up to Alaska, and getting tapped to be V.P. by an old white guy with no grip on reality! Ha ha ha! Guess she's a little nutty, isn't she?

And here's our glamour puss. Rrrrwr! Crew neck sweater with no dickey underneath--what a hottie! She ran around with the fast crowd. And she's practically famous, you know! She ended up, um, *cough*, dating some Secret Service guy. Who worked for the President. She can't remember his name, but she says he had a really nice gun!

What an amazing set of sisters, huh? And, gee, politics just seem to come naturally to us!

Hey, I'm just kidding about all this. I do have lots of sisters but none of them ever had such egregiously bad hair in high school. And be sure to check out Facebook Yourself!

One, Two, Three, Four...

2008-08-30T09:32:00.003-05:00

When we lived in Florida so many years ago we liked to drive over to Cape Canaveral and try to watch satellites get launched. Except it was tricky, because there was always a chance of bad weather complicating the launch or the scheduled re-entry. Usually we'd get to Cocoa Beach and check-in to the cramped beachside Holiday Inn with our smuggled schnauzer and go eat pancakes at IHOP. Then, bloated and high on syrup, we'd return to the launch area only to receive news that the mission had been scrubbed. Because a storm had been sighted off the coast of Africa. And I was so ignorant that I was all "Africa? But it's so far away! Why do we care about Africa? NASA is making excuses and they are LAME! And this Holiday Inn sucks and my stomach hurts and why are we traveling with this smelly animal?"

But here's how it works--look at the way storms form off the east coast of Africa and just line up, ready to swell into tropical disturbances, then storms, then hurricanes. That image is just textbook hurricane season and guys, it is going to be a doozy.

Notes

2008-08-29T12:31:00.004-05:00

First of all--Barack Obama's speech was everything we knew it would be. Insightful, passionate and just so interesting. Apparantly Senator Obama talked for nearly an hour, but I think most of us sat absolutey transfixed, unaware of time, drinking in the brillliant narrative of his speech, a narrative that was steeped in firm reality yes, absolutely, but drenched in something else as well, something light and bright... something that made you feel you were a child and it's summer time and you have an entire stack of books from the library to read plus a bag of peanut M&M's mixed with red hot cinnamon jelly beans sitting right by your side. It's something beautiful, something akin to magic. What's the word for it--what is it....oh, my god, is this what you all mean by hope? Jesus. Well, I'm just overwhelmed. Give me a hanky will you? I've got to dry these tears of joy from my eyes and then wipe all this candy off my fingers. That librarian is going to kill me.

Congratulations to all of us for bringing this candidate so far!

Second--Sarah Palin? HA HA HA HA! Good, one, McCain! Thank you for setting that one up. Because we all would feel so comfortable having our second-in-command be a person who was, until two years ago the mayor of a small town in Alaska. Oh, God. You Republicans. I love the way you second-guess us all. "Yeah, all those women who supported a Liberal, Democratic candidate will flock to my ticket now! Look! I have a woman on the ticket! What's that you say? She's a conservative with NO experience on the national scene? Aw, who cares? She's a girl! "

Ha ha ha!

Hi

2008-08-27T13:16:00.007-05:00

"Oh, sorry. Did I scare you? Because that's not why I was standing here right outside your door. No. I really didn't want to make you scream in terror and fall down with your heart beating so hard it felt as it were trying to escape from your chest. Woo boy! I'd give you a hand back up from the floor but as you can see they're glued to my sides here. You gonna be okay, buddy? Gee, I apologise for freaking you out. Just, y'know, wanted to say, HI!"

Heh. Summer's winding down and I think maybe to distract us all from the transition of hot summer days and sleeping late this week to the imminent and horrible business of adhering to a schedule next week, we've been busy setting this three-foot tall cardboard cut-out of Mini-Me* outside each other's bedrooms. We've set him up about ten times now and yet the shock of encountering his dire expression as you stagger half-awake towards the bathroom has not lessened for any of us. He's just so intense and...small.

*Whlle biking down an alley One of us found him sitting out on top of some trash. And I am happy to report we weren't too proud to stick his little cardboard frame under our arm and pedal home.

This Ain't No Beach Volleyball Game

2008-08-26T14:33:00.008-05:00

Comparisons are odious, I know that. But does anyone else think that the Democratic National Convention suffered by showing up on TV in such close proximity to the Beijing Summer Olympics? I mean, I'm a total CNN junkie and even I was chafing with ennui as the hours toiled by, as Wolf Blitzer tried in vain over and over either to hype the upcoming speeches or to insighfully parse those already delivered. Hmm. Perhaps we'd all gotten used to the exhilirating gold medal promise of our athletes who not only brought the glamour of youthful sex appeal but actually prevailed on the courts and in the pools. We win! We win again! It was all so heady. It was good to be an American at the 2008 Games.

And then last night rolled around and what did we have to look at when the camera panned over the crowd at the Pepsi Center in downtown Denver? Hordes of goofy middle-age politicos were either sweating in their red-white-and-blue-designed-to-catch-the-media's-eye-costumes or self-consciously swaying to the embarrassingly dumbed-down beat provided by a house band playing Muzak-style Hits of the Eighties. "Sweeeeeeeeeeet Caroline" blared out of the speakers as Caroline Kennedy advanced to the podium to introduce her Uncle Teddy. (True story, I saw her shudder as she recognised the tune. God, she had to deal with a lot of b.s. last night. But she was really cool. Oh, did anyone else catch her post-mortem smack-down of Wolfie when he asked--repeatedly-- for a "step-by-step walk-through" of just how the Obama campaign decided not to consider Senator Clinton for VP? Caroline laughed in his face. Wow.)

Anyway, maybe we would have been easier in our expectations of the first night of the convention if we hadn't just been treated to the seventeen days of pagentry and brand-new shiny venues and all those rippling muscles in tiny tight suits. I know I could certainly have used a little down time, a little help with the re-entry to the pace of political coverage. I only wish the DNC organizers had had some coaching from the Chinese governement or something. Instead of the delegates milling about so aimlessly they could have entered the arena and immediately formed themselves into a map of the USA. Then set off fireworks. Then rolled around the floor with freaky huge white boxes in a confusing display of revisionist history. Then replaced one of the Obama children with a smaller, cuter version--you know, that oldest girl has gotten a little bit too tall and grown-up, a tinier version would elicit more of the adorable vote from those PUMAs, I'm pretty sure about that...

I don't think I'll tune in for the DNC coverage tonight. I've heard that it's possible to download the Olympic gold medal table tennis match from NBC.com. Either that or I'll rewatch the Bulgarian Men kick ass in the Water Polo Finals. 'Cause I don't think the sight of Chelsea Clinton coyly introducing her mom (um, I already know who Hillary is, by the way...) can possibly compete with brawny, mustachioed Eastern European men wearing red and white checkered bonnets demurely tied under their chins.

Sorry, C.C. It's really just all about the showmanship.

Look Closely...

2008-08-25T16:39:00.004-05:00

Closer...closer...yes! It's a GOPHER! Millking a cow who just happens to be dressed up like a pioneer girl. This fantastic sculpture is carved from the remains of an old tree and it sits on the grounds of the Minnesota State Fair all year long, just waiting for State Fair go-ers to wander by, gasp in horror and then choke on their mini-donuts. And I think that it tells you everything you need to know about this state's mentality.

Summer Dinner Menu

2008-08-23T10:06:00.010-05:00

Summer Eggplant with Two Sauces
Summer Arugula Salad
Bread
Summer Peach Galette or Blueberry Pie

Summer Eggplant
Peel one large eggplant and cut into thin slices. Place slices flat on paper towels and salt lightly, let sit for half an hour. Turn each slice over and repeat the process. Blot moisture from eggplant slices and dust with flour, then dip in beaten egg. Fry in olive oil until tender and lightly brown on each side, drain on paper towels.

To make Fresh Tomato Sauce, remove core from six medium tomatoes, cut in half crosswise and squeeze gently to remove seeds. Cut each half into small dice. Mince one or two cloves of garlic and saute in two or three tablespoons of butter, add diced tomatoes and cook over low heat for approximately ten minutes. Add a sprig of fresh basil or oregano and continue cooking for ten or fifteen minutes. Add salt and pepper.

For Basil Pesto--place two cups loosely packed basil leaves in a food processor, add two large cloves of roughly chopped garlic and pulse to combine. Add one third cup of olive oil, one half teaspoon salt, puree mixture. Add one third cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, combine briefly. Add one or two more tablespoons of olive oil if needed--pesto should be smooth and not too stiff.

To finish eggplant dish-arrange fried slices in a single layer on a baking sheet and crumble one tablespoon of French or Israeli feta cheese over each round. Place briefly in a hot oven or under broiler until cheese is warm and slightly melted, it is not necessary to brown. (This step can also be done in a microwave--heat two or three slices at a time on high for thirty seconds.)

Drizzle with Basil Pesto and serve with Fresh Tomato Sauce.

To make Summer Arugula Salad you will need:

Three or four large handfuls arugula

Juice from one lime
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp stone ground mustard

One ripe peach, cut into thin slices
One half cucumber, peeled and seeded, cut into thin slices
One jalapeno pepper, cut into thin slices (optional)

Mix together lime juice, olive oil and mustard. Add salt and pepper.

Place remaining salad elements in bowl, add dressing and toss gently.

Crust for galette

one stick cold butter, cut into small pieces
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 sugar
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup ice water
1 tsp vanilla

3 ripe peaches

Mix flour, sugar and salt together in mixing bowl. Cut the butter into the flour mix, until the pieces are roughly the size of lentils. Add the vanilla to the ice water, remove ice and add water to ingredients in bowl. Stir gently with a wooden spoon until dough comes together. Flatten into disk and chill, wrapped, while you prepare the peaches.

Cut peaches in half, remove pits. Cut each half into eighths. Mix with 1/3 cup sugar and a sprinkling of cinnamon.

Roll dough into large circle and place on round baking sheet. Arrange peach slices in single layer on dough, leaving a two inch border. Fold border in over peaches, and bake in a 375 degree oven for 35-45 minutes.

Um, Did You Get a Phone Number?*

2008-08-23T09:52:00.003-05:00

Below is a "message" I found scrawled on a piece of scrap paper next to the telephone on my desk:

fhemly?
shrmely?
called dad!

What... IS... this? I asked the teenage perpetrator of this incompetence. WHAT... is this? What is ...THIS? C'mon, buddy, what the hell? I mean, why even bother finding a writing utensil and going to the trouble of wedging the phone against your shoulder while you scribble this bit of silliness down where your Mom--not your Dad, by the way-- will see it?

The perp's response was, not surprisingly, something along the lines of:

Vernik?
Fustith!

I thought about this strange episode and thought some more. And I came to a realization that there was something pure and even beautiful about it all. You see--the teen perp truly believed in the possibility that I Could Make Sense of Gibberish From His Brain. Because sometimes? I can.

*Yeah, here it is... &%#-*##@^

When Nature Gets Tricky

2008-08-22T09:10:00.005-05:00

See the photo below? The arms and hands entwined in a sisterly way? Pretty, isn't it? And interesting, too, in its arrangment of form and strong focus on direction, the subtle use of texture...yes, yes, quite artistic! Actually, what we're looking at is a walking stick, one of those amazing insects that look exactly like a twig. Those two sets of arms you see belong to the little girls at the cabin we just visited--they spied the walking stick clinging to the wood siding and allowed it to clamber over their hand, arms, shoulders, backs and although pretty scared at the prospect, their hair!

Thank you, girls! That was the first walking stick I've ever met face to face. The coolest thing about it was-- the head and antennae parts of its body were pale green, to simulate new twig growth. Clever!

2008-08-22T09:06:00.002-05:00

click to enlarge!

2008-08-22T07:34:00.001-05:00

little bit more in focus!

In Which I Am Intolerant

2008-08-20T10:13:00.002-05:00

I'm leaving in a couple of minutes--going on a little road trip over to Wisconsin. Yep. About two hours drive through farmland and big sky country in order to sit around at a lake cabin. Then we'll eat a hamburger and drive home. I am really excited about this. But I just realised that I've never apprised you all of something--I am a hat bigot. Yes. I have gigantic issues with adults who wear fun or cute things on their heads. Such as driving hats. Or berets. Or bandanas. Or newsboy caps. For no reason. College kids and under, fine. Put whatever piece of idiocy you want to on your head. Knock yourself out. The rest of you? Cut it out. You look stupid and that makes me angry.

Be back soon!

Adieu, Wafer

2008-08-18T13:15:00.001-05:00

The Nurse, The Undertaker and The Gravedigger

2008-08-18T08:35:00.006-05:00

When the hour finally came yesterday --and I knew it would, I'd been on death watch since early morning--these three stepped up and took over. The Nurse, who had been diligently stopping by to offer sips of fresh water, called me into the room when Wafer, our seven-year-old pet rabbit, became suddenly agitated. Wafer calmed immediately when I spoke to her, breathed evenly as I rubbed her cheeks and stroked between her soft ears and held her limbs secure against her body. After five minutes she gave a quick spasm and then I saw darkness enter the eye that had been looking up at me. But for her last moments of life I was there petting her and telling her it was okay and Nurse? I am so very grateful for that.

The Undertaker brought what I think of as a bit of Shakespearian comedy to our little tragedy when he broke out in laughter at the solemn moment of transfering Wafer's always well-fed form to a large (women's sixe 11) shoebox. Which was not large enough. If only he had recently purchased shoes, we all agreed. Men's size 13 undoubtedly would have been perfect for her.

The Gravedigger took her job seriously--dig deeper, she commanded. Make the bottom of the hole wide and level she urged. The Undertaker railed slightly at the directives but rallied to her mission. He himself thoughtfully arranged Wafer's bed for the everafter, made up of fresh pine chips complete with a pillow of sweet Timothy hay.

The Nurse dug up one of Wafer's favorite bitter lettuce plants and knelt to plant it in the freshly turned earth atop her grave. The Gravedigger used her feet to tamp down the soil. The Undertaker asked her to stop stepping on the grave. The Nurse rolled her eyes, but conscious of my raw emotion and the delicacy of the situation, for once declined to comment on the antics of the shovel wielders.

Thank you, dear children. Your response to a call for assistance that I didn't even have to issue was quick, efficient and compassionate. And as always, you made me laugh. What would I have done without you?

Note to Self: Bring Camera

2008-08-15T17:56:00.006-05:00

I've gone places and seen things these past few days and I am thinking I may need to start carrying my camera along with me. I've missed so many photos. Number one-- I really want to show you the plate-size blueberry cornmeal pancake (vegan!) I had for breakfast the other day. I've looked around on the Internet and I've seen lots of photos showing stacks of good-looking cornmeal cakes with the requisite oozing blueberries. They are all very similar to the one I ate. But... not quite! Mine was just one single cake, enormous and pan-freckled, hanging over the edge of the dinner plate. And since it was vegan, there wasn't a pat of sweet butter melting into the hot blueberries. Nope, no pot of whipped cream either. Just a tiny metal cream pitcher filled to the top with the truest maple syrup, set right onto the center of the pancake. Yeah, it made a dent.

And sure, I can easily find photos that show cattails growing near the shore of a little lake. But I'll never find any that show the ones I saw yesterday-- amazing whoppers, each one big as an ear of sweet corn wrapped up in brown velvet, supported by thick sharp-edged green stalks. Plus, these cattails? They were wearing jewelery. Seriously--a single slender greeny-brown grasshopper was poised on almost every cattail, tiny feet sunk into the deep cushiony fabric of the flowering cylinder. I'm not usually a fan of brooches--who is?--but those cattails really made it work.

I have regrets about all this, it's true. We can never recreate those shots, those moments. But I was lucky because besides at least getting to tell you about my a little bit about my breakfast and my afternoon spent relaxing at that small lake, I can tell you that that pancake (made and served to me by the good hippies at one of our more successful Urban Organic Bakery and Cafes), not only tasted really delicious, I truly felt good after I ate it. No sleepiness, no feeling of overfullness. Score one for the vegans! And although it may be the maple syrup talking--I procured a second tiny pitcher--I have to say I really love my city. I love the neighborhoods with sidewalks and skinny trees on skimpy boulevards, and old narrow houses and buses roaring down the street. I am so happy to be where people can walk to a restaurant. And it cracks me up that I could have a server with such a lovely, kind manner (and adorable floppy bangs!) that I notice those things and forget to assign a gender to him or her.

And those cattails? I spent more than two hours staring at them. While simultaneoulsy being awed that I got to see schools of intricately designed tiny black bullheads churning around in the warm shallows while a dozen of those graceful, aggressive barn swallows (only if they live under a swimming dock I think they get to be dock swallows) swooped across the water. So. Turns out spending an August afternoon sitting next to a quiet pond where herons nest and lily pads flourish is my other favorite thing in the world. Who knew?

But dang. Wish I'd brought my camera.