Santa battles bad modern dance

a more intriguing cleveland

since losing Sage last year, I've been adrift in a sea of unsatisfying watering holes.

but in the past month, I've reintroduced myself to places dark, posh and reveling in their own decadent delights. It's mostly in search of those who supply Hendrick's Gin, and I find that if the gin is there, it's a good indicator that I'll be happy to settle in and stay until the fire dies down or the pianist tires out.

Sinterklaas und Zwarte Piet

While putting things in order at my parents, I found a Christmas knick-knack that freaked me out.

It was a small santa with a little... black... helper...?

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!? (because at 31, when I'm at home, I'm still 13)
What's... this...?"

"Oh, that's your Dutch heritage. It's Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet. Go put it on the piano... there's a plate with them on it somewhere,too..."



In some of my reading about this tradition, I've found it said that this little guy is essentially the more cuddly version of Krampus... which lends itself to a whole mess of questions and implications.

But since I keep coming up with questionable and eccentric holiday traditions, I thought it fit the bill.

SOUP, there it is

Bring it on down to Homelessville

Lazy?
Me?
Absolutely...


While I'm reminiscing, here's my dick in a box.

more teutonic strangeness

This isn't necessarily of the season, but I bring this up because springerle cookies remind me of Christmas.

Springerle, for those who don't know is essentially hardtack with sugar, imprinted with molds made of wood.

My mother has number of these molds, and I remember her joy upon finding the "Dukatenscheisser"



Yeah...
He's shitting gold.

Here's a better view...



I wish I could shit gold.

Krampus

Thanks to those at 7 deadly sinners and to my mother's obsession with all things curious and slightly offensive (in some ways, apple not so far from the tree, I admit), I bring you Krampus...



St. Nick's alter ego, brother, frenemy and dirty dark yin to his fluffy glitter yang.

Frankly, he looks a lot more interesting...
Check out that tongue!

Annotated Nativity

In the spirit of the season...
A friend sent this.
Her niece did it.
Very perceptive, she.

fall out

dad's fine (ish): surgery went well, awaiting hormonal therapy and radiation treatment.
mom's fine (ish): waiting on dad, rearranging the house to accommodate a downstairs bed and closing his office.
i'm fine (ish): helped in any way I could, friends being very supportive, haven't had to spend an evening alone yet, which is nice.

we'll see how this all pans out.

suckie crap ass day

my father has experienced some back pain in the past couple of weeks, it turned into what we all thought was siatica.

he went to the doctor's saturday, the doctor had a hunch it might not be good, so he called in a bunch of favors to schedule an MRI for sunday a.m.

sunday night, i got three messages...
that the MRI was "bad" - no explanation
that the MRI was fine, and he needed simple back surgery on a disk
the the MRI was bad again - and that he needed a biopsy

monday morning (today)
i got a call that i was to not go to work, to come to lorain, that he was going in for surgery and that they thought it was cancer.

so today was spent at the hospital with chaplins and ministers and specialists and surgeons all speculating and throwing out numbers and being vague and talking in what-ifs.

so he had spine surgery today, it went well, they removed the offending lesions, and they confirmed cancer, but with more information to come later...

this fucking blows.

i totally dig my dad.

my carpentering, model-building, blacksmithing, basket-weaving dad.

we don't get cancer.
we're not cancer people.
we have heart attacks.
and survive them, for many many many years.
not cancer.
that's just not us.

Modern Holiday

I had a small impromptu holiday dinner thing tonight...
best hostess gift ever

and best modern remake of A Christmas Carol.

oh, and always invite an oenophile to your party, just a hint.

Corpulent Gluttony

I love this image for the Metropolitan Opera's Hansel und Gretel



Love it.

More fabulous and disturbing images that relate to the opera here.

Scarves!

In a Thanksgiving turkey and pumpkin-pie filled haze, I needed to find clarity...
thru knitting.

I may actually achieve my goal of an entirely handmade christmas!

All knit from improvised patterns... (yay me!)

Me, with clarity found.



Clarity sure is cozy.

Scarves!



Scarves up close!



A ruffle-y, twist-y, spiral-y pink scarf!



I'd post the sweater I'm making, but the Tilda-beast took off with the second needle and hid it.

Fiber

CUPCAKE!



Or maybe... BRAN MUFFIN!

either way it's utterly charming... and satisfies my sweet tooth.
Less fuzzy photo will happen later.

Pattern here.

No fair!

If monkeys can figure it out, why can't Republicans....?

When the gales of November come early

Don't forget to dust off the Gordon Lightfoot and crack open a bottle.

Here's to the wives and the sons and the daughters.

work

The adage of "the more things change, the more things stay the same" appears to be rearing its ugly head today.

About a hundred and fifty years ago, I was working as a scenic artist, and I used to describe my job thusly.

"I paint wood"

"...to look like wood."

Today I found myself scurrying to turn in an audited audit to a funder.

Somehow, the concept of ridiculous redundancy pleases me.

I like my job, I really do.
It is quite a bit of redundancy.

The challenge is fitting your organizational story and mission into applications with such nuanced differences that you often have to rewrite the entire existing language.
Reinventing the wheel for a $1000 from Ford Motor.

The other challenge is explaining how an art form that was for the people and became exclusive to the rich, white, esoteric and dead is suddenly for the people again.

One argument is that old saw...Economic Development.

Our rich people come to where your poor people are.
They buy things served to them by the poor.

So... trickle-down economics?
Hey, while we're at it, why not reinvigorate the ghosts of Star Wars and Communism.

I'm suddenly feeling trapped in a Bloom County cartoon ca. 1989.

Which is good.

Bloom County babes were usually nerdy or hot.

Or both.

more knitting

I finished my pulsewarmers a few weeks ago and have been happily wearing them since!


This is my first attempt at a patterned scarf, I love it... the next one will have circles (I hope).

...

and its snowing

*cue sleigh bells*

*cue crackling fire*

*cue snuggling*

I'll hate it come January, but for now it feels right.

now where did I leave my hot chocolate....?

by the many arms of vishnu

why won't it stop

my left eyelid won't stop twitching.
i don't know why it started.
not really stressed.
got more than enough sleep this weekend.
haven't had too much caffeine.
my boss suggested botox.
its a mystery a mystery a mystery

post party portrait

boo

off to drink brew and carouse with my familiars

who do i look like

according to this website I look like I'm

80% Janeane Garofalo (a Sassy readers dream come true)
76% Elton John
72% James Spader
71% Michelle Rodriguez
68% Jack Osborne
68% Nelli Furtado (thanks, but seriously?)
66% Jessica Beil (now I just think you want something)
62% Gary Oldman
6!% Piper Perabo
52% LARRY FUCKING KING ~ now I have to goddamn kill myself

excuses excuses

how a contractor can be like a
bad boyfriend.

i couldn't agree more

Halloweenie

And I was worried I wasn't in the spirit of the season...

Thanks to S for bringing me to the kiddo party yesterday... we ate mini corndogs, drank Hi-C and grape soda and got wrapped up like mummies by eight year olds armed with Charmin and an innate sense of wickedness ~ then watched as the Thriller video Blew. Their. Minds.

And one charming devilette said I looked like I belonged on Diagon Alley in my green skirt, purple stockings, pointy hat and glowing false eyelashes (honey, you've made a friend for life...)

One more project

A purse.
Just to see if I could make a purse.

a friday spent in

The last few weeks have been incredibly hectic, so I used tonight to stay in and knit, do laundry, knit some more and chat with friends.

I'm definitely getting into the knitting, a little TOO into it, maybe.

This was supposed to be a fitted hat... but I'm new to knitting to measure, so it became an oops-beret.


Action shot...



Oh, and I forgot I have an older laptop... a little Mozilla updating and I'm uploading knitting at midnight...

I won't lie, it's a glamorous life.

Computer issues

so laptop's power cord is officially shot
it's slightly over a year old, and I don't know if apple will replace it or not
so I have 45 min of time left on my battery
and I'm not using it for this
and with a new production in the theater and fundraising well underway, I haven't time to run to the eastside to argue with some techie-emo about how a 14 month old plug could have warn through its plastic covering and shorted out.
and $79 is too steep a price to pay

plus its been nice to not run over the computer everytime there's a fact i NEED to know.

it's nice to be disconnected...

Eat shit, feel better

I wholly agree.

I often get a screwed look when I share with some unsuspecting individual that I swim in Lake Erie - a lot.

They're usually pretty sissified... lovin' the big box and overusing the anti-bacterial everything, whining that anything remotely primal or human is "gross."

I bet they're a JOY in the sack, too.

Well, Ha! Spinach will kill you.

Meanwhile, I eat Bubolathrax* for breakfast and am never afraid of getting sticky.

*The mythical biological agent created from Bubonic Plague, Ebola and Anthrax.

...duh

Repetition repetition art repetition

I was lucky enough to take the first brisk fall day off and spend it rusticating. Lucky for us, we have the urbane among the rural in Oberlin, where there is a wonderful, under-appreciated art museum: Allen Memorial Art Museum.

While there, I saw these two pieces, interestingly enough, both focused on repetition, apparently my new mode.


Leonardo Drew (American, b. 1961) - Untitled, 1999


Willie Cole - Man Spirit Mask, 1999

Chix with Stix

About a month ago, a friend started a stitch n' bitch at a coffee shop on the east side.
I'd tried to learn to knit 3 times prior, to no avail and whole lotta knots.
Thanks to P for teaching how to cast on and purl, K for my knit stitch and L for casting off.

My first completed project... a muffler scarfie thing with sassy vintage pin.



Action shot...


Now if only it would cool off so I could wear it.

The Kingdom

Saw it.
Loved it.
Love Chris Cooper.

Some coincidences to ponder....

I went to college with Jen Garner, I was theater major, we shared a dressing room when she was a fancy senior and I was lowly frosh and we were in Jacques Brel.
She taught me how to make hair scrunchies.

While in school, I developed a friendship with a gun-toting son of State Dept. officials who were always in the Middle East. He always reminded me of Alex P. Keaton, from Family Ties.
He wanted to join the FBI and shoot things. They did a show together. It was Chekov, in it his character shoots himself.

The summer after my sophomore year, I worked at a summer stock that Jen suggested I check out. That summer, we did Love Letters, starring Michael Gross... of Family Ties fame. I washed his socks.

I saw The Kingdom and Jason Bateman was in it with Jen, his sister is Justine Bateman, from FAMILY TIES. (Incidentally, she is now in Men in Trees with Emily Bergl who was in The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds at a theater I worked for in VT and played opposite Liza Weil who was on Gilmore Girls... where Ms. Bergl did a cameo or two... but i digress... no guns or FBI or Family Ties ties to them, really.)

It doesn't really MEAN anything, but its just weird and I thought I'd share.

What's with all the typos?

I use Safari.
That means I have no tools in my blogger tool bar
except a spellcheck icon that says "error" when I click it.

I guess I could use another... server? platform? interweb connector software thingie?

meh.

whatev.

deal with the typos...

it reminds me that nothing's ever perfect.

The Golden Compass

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod
I am so excited to see this



These books got me through many a mean red, provided ample reminder of sincerity in this snarky world and generally fed my need for awkward teen love.

repetition repetition propinquity repetition

For the first time in 5 years, I'm grounded by a job in a certain place for a certain time doing a certain series of things.
And I love it.

I've missed the rhythms of normalcy in the years of free-lancing, getting another degree and working from home.
Those years allowed me to travel - for work and for fun - go the beach (alot), spend an increased amount time with my sassy-pants grandmother and generally thumb my nose at The Man, but I can't help but relish the experience of expecting certain things and having those things happen.

I have settled into more solid routine than I've ever had before, and even the things I'm doing have an element of rhythm and repetition, such as swimming and knitting.

Other than work, the thing that's been most erratic in my life in the past few years has been the masculine element, and I wonder if I've courted it.

Since I was rarely consistant in my own life, I think I may have given a bit more room for inconsistancy in men, which is fine... in theory.

What I've learned (or what I think I think I've learned) is that if you give a man an inch for inconsistancy, he'll take 26.2 miles. But slowly, at an increasing pace and in such a way that, like the proverbial camel in the proverbial tent, he'll nose his way bit by bit into completely disrespectful asshole.

So now, after 5 years of consistant inconsistancy, I want to be allowed to both have expectations and have them met more often than not.

Now that I've found a rhythm, I'd like to find some propinquity.

In the meantime, work swim eat knit read sleep work social bills sleep work swim knit clean cook sleep...

Out martha-ing martha

After a friday night of Strongbow fueled debauchery at Prosperity, I went to visit the family in Erie Co.

Dad got a smoker from my uncle and has been obsessed with cooking the perfect smoked turkey. As usual, it was amazing. Got-up-at-five-a.m.-and-started-the-process amazing.
And since it's that wonderful time between summer and fall harvests, we had the best of both along with dinner.

Sunday, I spent the day gathering the final tomatoes, zucchini, seckel pears from my grandmother's garden; but the lion's share of the time was spent gathering and husking chestnuts.

These aren't the kind that fell prey to the early 20th century blight, but they are edible and now represent my favorite part of fall.

We go out to the trees in turn, each coming back with a full half-peck basket. They're so plentiful that we sell them at a stand up the road, which is good, since I got gourds and pumpkins gratis.

I came home with a basket full of goodies, and spent this evening making concord grape sorbet and chocolate ice cream infused with chocolate mint.

I roasted chestnuts last evening on my neighbor's grill... v. good, but we left them too long with the chatting and the beer.

Throughout this weekend, I spent my free time knitting because after 3 attempts, I seem to finally get it.

So as long as I live within walking distance of downtown, I'll maintain my rural side. And I'm sure if I moved to a rural area, I'd become hyper-metropolitan.

So for now, I imagine my grandmother's as the country house and my apartment in Tremont as my pied de terre.

cake

We're taking a friend out for a going-away celebration tonight, and his friends and I discussed the possibility of making him a dirty cake; specifically a penis cake.

What I really wanted to to was stack cupcakes up and make a giant edible erection with cupcake-ie junk.

Unfortunately, I was pre-empted by the purchase of a cake fit for a 10-year old girl from Dave's that we're apparently going to write harassing statements on.

that's fine.
funny.
less craftie.
whatev.

but for a few sweet shining glorious moments, I was answering my phone "Penisson and sons, bakery"

it brings back the glory days of
"Office of student affairs, would you like one?"

*sigh*

to be a 17 year old boy...

An open letter to Rush Limbaugh

Dear Rush,

About the vicodin...

Yeah.

I totally get it now.

But I still think you're a no-talent ass-hat.
Scratch that.
Brain-dead crotch-weasel.
Nope....
How about politically inflamatory ass-clown crotch-weasel...?

Best,
Sarah

not entirely broken

thank goodness for ice packs

my back is getting better, but i feel like a slug

i spent the better part of the day watching 30 rock episodes online
and i think i drank my volume in coke zero

i did go for a walk with a neighbor who has a slipped disk,
it was nice to share a hobble with a friend

and a friend dropped by with a heating pad

back to work tomorrow
staying home isn't fun when you're actually sick/wounded

ouch

So I thrashed my lower back yesterday
and I do NOT feel like a badass

I feel like a gimp

I normally do stretches on my excercise ball, including a backbend...
my right lower back twinged a little
and i continued to stretch and then clean my living room

and it got worse

and worse

so now I can only bend over by doing a grand plie

home from work

with an ice pack

this sucks

fall=busy

this weekend I (in no particular order)
Saw "The Brave One"
Ate pulled pork
Went to the Tremont Arts Fest, purchased art
Went to Stan Hywet
*Played in treehouses
*Ate apples from the tree and grapes from the vine
*Played with butterflies
*Walked alot
Went to the West Point Market
*Drank wine
*Ate the best chicken pot pie ever
Made chocolate zucchini bread
Went back to the arts fest
Watched the Up Ensemble play hot jazz
Went BACK to the arts fest again, purchased MORE art
Went to Lolita and ate cured meats and fancy pizzas with a he-harem
Went to Scoops for ice cream sandwiches with aforementioned he-harem
Laughed
Climbed
Skipped and
Giggled

chicka chicka yeah

2000 meters freestyle

*holla*

that was my Oct 1 goal

100th post

Crazee.

Not sure what to say, except I swam 1500+ meters today.

And I'm proud.

And tired.

Off to clean the kitchen.

Thrilling.

The Perfect Shoe (Lady Post)

UPDATED UPDATE: I came to work at 8:30... it was 10 when I posted... I'm not *that* spoiled.
Almost 5 - haven't kicked them off under the desk yet.
I am beyond pleased... and way too into these shoes.

UPDATE: 10:30 am... marched into work in wellies (it's RAINING) and switched into The Perfect Shoe. I swear to God, I could run a marathon.
If running marathon means going downstairs to Starbucks for tea.
I plan on doing a 500 meter along the corridor of the office at 4pm to test the long-term wearability of The Perfect Shoe.

Carry on.

***
Girls.
We like our options.

Sure, we'll try to make a silk boyfriend out of sow's ex... or something... but the shoe has to be nothing less than PERFECT from day one.

Otherwise... it's
too pointy or
too square or
not pointy enough or
too shiny or
too matte or
too patent-y,
you know...

But I found The Perfect Black Shoe, purchased yesterday at Ann Taylor



If any of you EVER hear me say ANYTHING about not having the "right shoe" feel free to pick up the shoe and put out an eye.
My eye, I mean,
for being a whiny, spoilt prat with skewed priorities and a subscription to Vogue.

I appreciate it.

In the meantime, I'll be prancing around downtown in my perfect shoes, gleefully tossing my tam, balancing on fountains with a sassy twinkle in my eye and other standard-issue young-thing-in-the-city attitudes I could potentially strike.

Urban Spinario

Spinario, or Boy with Thorn.
A classic posture used in art, not unlike the contraposto.

A sculpture


A lithograph


A photograph


Yesterday, as I walked down the alley to my parking garage, I saw a man sitting in a doorway in this classic pose.

It reminded me a trip I took to New York City almost 10 years ago, when I saw a man in Central Park, in the same pose.

Something about that moment reminded me that in thousands of years, little has changed.

A thorn is still a thing to be reckoned with.

weep

Madeleine L'Engle died today.

Read her books, if you haven't already.

I always wanted to be Meg Murray and someday meet my Calvin O'Keefe.
What a great example of awkward teenage love...

Is there anything more pure, more baggage-free, more soul-comforting than 100% unsullied-by-time nerd-love?

No.

No there isn't.

*sigh*

Savagely wringing out the last drips of summer

This evening was beautiful, so I met a friend for al fresco smoothies at Liquid Planet in Lakewood.

We were supposed to go to the beach after, but the weight of the day proved too much, so I went alone.

I stopped being the girl who went to the beach alone a long long time ago - like -1989-long-time-ago.
And its not that I'm opposed to being that girl, but the beach seems like the final frontier of alone-i-tude.

Maybe its the lack of trust. A fear that I'll come back to find my things stolen.
Or maybe it's just so much exposure, emotional on top of the physical.

Who knows.

But I went anyway, drawn by the fleet of white from Wed'y race night offshore.
I figured I would walk the loop and sit on rocks.

But as I walked, I became succinctly aware of my bathing suit -
My skin itched to get into the water -
Suddenly my entire body was a dowsing rod and I couldn't NOT be in the water.

So I ran back up to the car... the whole time arguing with myself that if I didn't go into the water, it was a loss for my life and then thinking how much easier it would be to simply go home, defeated.
Somehow, when I was making up my mind to go back to the beach, the decision was on a far grander scale than simply to swim or not to swim.

It was more about trust and confidence and independence and self-indulgence.

That said, I left my clothes and keys in the car, taking only my ignition key and hanging it from my necklace.
I took my beach bag and walked down to the shore and swam for an hour.
I dog-paddled and did the breast-stroke and free-styled and floated and treaded water and swam out past the buoys to watch the spinnakers unfurl on the boats.
Alone.

So now I'm the girl who can swim alone.

Chocolate zucchini bread

I'm a pretty lax baker when it comes to experimental things (I tend to incorporate 2-3 recipes together and see what happens)
I love when what happens is good...
(I have to commit it to paper before I forget)

Pre-heat oven to 350 (325 if using a glass dish)

3 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla or about 1/2 a bean
5 oz chocolate (milk... semi sweet... whatev)
1 heaping Tbsp unsweetened cocoa
1/2 can PLAIN pumpkin puree
2.5 cups shredded zucchini... sort of rung out, but not bone dry

2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger

Melt the chocolate on LOW in a sauce pan (I use the Trader Joes Pound Plus... 5 squares... 3 milk, 2 semi sweet)
Don't over-melt it... you could nuke it, but I've long since gotten rid of the beast.
Anyway-
So you whip the eggs into a frothy, lemon-colored riot.
add the sugar... vanilla... cocoa... pumpkin - stir till smooth.
Fold in the zucchini.

Add more chocolate if you see fit... no judgement... this recipe is OIL FREE and therefore equal to a monastic fast.

In a separate bowl, mix dry ingredients (no need to sift, my pretties, this is rough hewn baking).

Stir dry into the wet.

This is about 1 loaf + 3 mini loaves worth...

So spray that PAM (the baking PAM smells cloyingly sweet, in a good way)
and scoop the batter and lick the spoon.

Bake the little ones about 45 minutes, or until a knife comes out clean.
Bake the bigger one about an hour, hour fifteen... trust the knife.

Share the love (the fiber. the antioxidants and the hidden veggies)

Quit yer bitchin

Ok... ok... a little self-pity never really hurt anyone, did it?

Anyway, fab weekend.

I stayed at my grandmother's who is out of town in ALASKA.
On a CRUISE.
With her BOYFRIEND.
She's 83~
Good for her.

*shakes head sagely*

Anyway, stayed there all weekend.

Went to the TIffin Flea Market...
1. NASCAR
2. Jesus
3. The War

o, and a beautifully felted cloche for winter wear.

But mostly NASCAR.

Spent the next day at my cousin's pool sunning and swimming and drinking Brandy Alexanders
with cousin K and her friend T who happened to have lived in my 'hood.

More sitting outside, but overlooking the Huron River at night.

Then more pool time the next day with a turkey smoked by daddy-o.
Everyone brought starches... with cheese... flavored with bacon...
It was like the Fourth all over again.

Interspersed weekend with biking, hiking, planting and picking... and a little wool-gathering.
Not to mention pushing a 1920s tractor out of a rut and into a barn...

I brought back 3 zucchinis as big as all outdoors from Nana's garden.

From one I have made:
Zucchini pumpkin bread - 1 loaf, 6 muffins
Chocolate zucchini pumpkin bread, 1 loaf, 3 mini loaves
12 zucchini feta latkes.

I have 2 more... any thoughts?

They are HUGE so not very good for raw use....

I may simply make loaf after loaf and freeze.
I think the chocolate will be good (it's baking now... yum...)

What a great way to end the summer.

Up next.. what to do with apples, pears and chestnuts....?

Mean reds and a little bit blue

I love the concept of long weekends...
I love them more when the boss closes the office a day early.

But this weekend it bums me out because:
It was too short notice to plan a proper 4-day weekend.
All my people have other people to share it with first.
Or are too far away to join.
California
Alabama
Arizona
New York
Or a state of otherness that can't be penetrated:
sorrow
love
depression

Looks like I'll spend it wool-gathering.

I guess that's ok.

Naps make it better

Friday was my 18th day straight of working (or 19th, but who's counting)...

We had 2 weekends of shows that I had to work.
Generally, the shows are broken up over the week, Wed'y/Fri/Sun
or something similar.
But not this run.

Plus our biggest, newest grant was turned in yesterday, the one from funds generated by a cigarette tax.
No one can say how much or how little we're potentially up for, so many unknowns make it scary.

To compensate for all the busy, I've been going out ALOT after work.

Feeling o so cosmopolitan, but its catching up with me today.
I've discovered a fondness for Hendrick's gin and flirting.
Both are utterly exausting if experienced in excess.

So naps and trolling the interweb.

New obsession, the NY Mag Look Book archives.
.
I know NYC would be too expensive and too hard given my present circumstances, but I see these people and their ability to simply BE in a city that encourages creativity and I wonder who I would become in an environment like that.

Not that Tremont isn't lovely, but I don't think you could get away with this or that.

Too bad.

wasted

yo
so its midnight and i'm tanked

its a school night - karaoke at prosperity

so many good - so many more AWFUL

so much hendricks... (with tonic, v. good)

night before...

Lolita and accordion music

Superbad and beer at Champppppppps

this a.m. - mimosas to celebrate a new hire

15th day at work - no days off til sat'y

thank god for the he-harem and bars aplenty in the 'hood

barking dog next door - fuck you - go to sleep

so i can too

Don't throw it out!

As much as they always tell you
"If you haven't worn it in a year,
(or 6 months, or 2 years, or a decade)
then get rid of it!"

Pish!

I bought a black sweater vest last month.
And only now am I getting to wearing a pair of
white suede buck shoes that I bought in...

1995.

These shoes are twelve year old, people.

Twelve.

If they were a person, they'd have public hair and heads full of self-doubting akwardness and algebra I.

So I say DO NOT THROW IT OUT if it's something you swear you'll wear.

Let it bide its time and promise you'll...
lose the 10 lbs
see the fashion come back
find a reason and a season to wear it again.

I can't imagine how disappointed I'd be if I had the vest but no bucks.

PLUS the black and white diag striped skinny tie purchased 5 years ago at the thrift...
it's a whole Patricia-Fields-does-country-club-causal-but-kind-of-mod thing.

v. cool.

Update: What are bucks?


Classic summer men's shoes of the early to mid twentieth century.

Rootbeer Floats at 1

Yup.

It's 1 o'clock.

There's Graeter's Ice Cream in the company fridge.

I bought root beer on Tuesday.

I love my job.

Unfortunate fortune

"It could be better,
but its good enough."

I mean...

I GUESS so...

but -

really?

how.... complacent.

Happy Inattentive Jackass Day, y'all!

4 people standing in front of my car chatting as I tried to leave the parking garage.
10+ cars coming at me in the middle or wrong lane - fast - as I tried to leave the parking garage.
Too many to count slow drivers milling around 15 minutes after the game started downtown.
1 pissed off aging hipster man-child who parked his bike about 3 feet into the drive that leads to my parking lot.
Pissed off because I honked to let him know I was there and didn't want to hit his aging hipster man-child bike.

Apparently being attentive is perceived as aggressive.
Not understanding how you relate to your surround environs is the new thing, man.

I was expecting a wave and a nod and him moving his bike closer to the building.
Not "What's your problem!" yelled at me across Professor.

Fine.
I hear you LOUD AND CLEAR.
Next time I'll hit it.

'cause that would be more rock & roll, right?

awwwwwwwwwwwww yeah

Gold flats from Target: $12.99
Feathers from JoAnn Fabric: $1.99
Arty-girl shoes with nary a skull & cross-bone or stag-head silhouette to be found: Priceless









One down, one to go....

Let's talk estrangement

Estrangement is a weird state of affairs, and something I never thought I'd experience, save the truly poorly behaved ex or two.
Yet here, I am, 31 and technically estranged from 2 female friends and a numbers of exs.

This comes up because I've been passing a friend's ex on the street alot lately, and he goes really far out of his way to ignore me - and it's weird.

Over the years we've had dinner, he's used my kayak and their relationship didn't end badly, it just... ended. So now I'm - I guess - estranged from this person who I will likely see weekly...

One of the things that seems so odd about the experience of estrangement is that it's not something I would choose, were it not either a) chosen for me b) the only way to keep myself in check.

If left to my own devices, I believe that you can pretty much work through anything, and if you can't, you can mutually agree to leave each other alone.

The first option - Chosen for Me - is a uniquely female experience.

I worked with someone who I became close to - I was moved into her department and technically answered to her. However, it was well known that her managerial skills were questionable, so I was urged to request that I answer directly to her supervisor. The whole thing put me in an odd position, because no one would ever explain why I didn't answer to her.

I stood up to her when it was appropriate, but the managment skills really needed work - sort of the dish-it-bit-can't-take-it kind... and all the time I was trying to balance our outside friendship: I picked her up from the airport, heeded her husband's desperate call for a last minute surprise birthday cake and painted her scary high walls - you know, friendship stuff... with a heaping side of work discord.

When I left that job, I was honest in an exit interview.
A CONFIDENTIAL exit interview.
That got turned into gossip.

And now she crosses the street when she sees me.
Why not confront me?
Why not accept the criticism as a learning experience?
Why not call me a bitch and get over it?

The other experience was a high maintance friend whom I forgot to maintain while I was back in school.

She stopped talking to me the day after my apartment burned.

Haven't run into her, which is for the best. But a shame that she couldn't get past whatever she couldn't get past.

Whatever the problem was - I ask again,
Why not confront me?
Why not yell at me that I wasn't paying her enough attention?
Why not call me a bitch a get over it?

The Ex Estrangement...

I will take the blame for instigating this behavior on a number of occasions.

Mostly, I do it because if I don't, I'll keep trying to fix things and keep kicking that dying, dead, moldly horse.

I'll put up with almost any behavior, as long as its not explicitly hurtful. I think that inattentiveness or general crazy-head is acceptable in short bursts, but not for the long-haul - because when those things go unheeded, they become explicitly harmful to another, if only as indicators of someone's inability to control their actions.

My own experience leading up to estrangement with men has always been the build-up of small injustices.
I mean, who wants to be the girl who won't accept a little off-the-chart odd behavior?
But there comes a time when even the most benign excuse, if used enough, grows to form a malignant problem that has to be attended to.

So I remove the problem - Just cut it off.

But I don't want to - I NEVER want to.

I want to believe the excuse and have it be true and keep the good and have the bad be a long-gone distant memory that we laugh about later.

A couple of years ago, I got back into communication with an ex who was always cancelling on me to volunteer with someone needier than you, me and everyone else you'll probably ever meet.

And that's a GREAT reason to cancel on someone - really.
I mean, even after 8 months of wringing my hand over it, I felt like such bitch by walking away.

And the depressed ones, dear god, what do you do?
Do you stand by your man? What if you've only been dating a few months?
And have you ever tried to stand by a depressed guy? They're frickin' brutal -
all self-deprecation and self-pitying selfish selfness selfity self self me me me.

So - estrangement...
Do I try to fix it with the girls?

Is there some other way to extricate yourself from that kind of boy?

How do you handleit when someone you know pretends not to know you though no fault of your own?

How do you learn to not care about these things?

I'll leave you with one final thought...

The advice columnist Dan Savage has suggested that the rule for getting involved with a much younger lover is the same as a rule for campsites: leave them better than you found them.

I would suggest that the same rule applies regardless of age - and manner of relationship.

Why not try to leave people better than you found them? Douse the fire, throw out your trash and take your baggage with you when you leave.

Impatience

So I had to wear them today.
Not tomorrow.
Not the day after the day before a week from today.
But NOW.

Had I intercepted a 9:30 phone call I missed because I was too deep in buttons and bows, I would have worn them out and about, one complete, one plain in a personal ode to Camper Twins.

Me wearing shoes.



Me wearing shoes with curious Tilda-beast.

why should kate spade have all the fun

Over the years I've collected a good deal of raw materials for sewing.
A textile-lover at heart, I've always been a sucker for antique ribbons and the odd 30s button.

Thanks in large part to the democratization of style, hipster hand-made and the rise of Anthropologie, Miu Miu and Kate Spade, it's perfectly normal to dress like you raided your eccentric aunt's clothespress and decked yourself out like Little Edie.

You've seen the feather shoes.
Now come the flats.

I purchased a pair of silver flats from Target a couple of weeks ago and they left me - pardon the pun - flat.
I dug around my suitcase of scraps and came up with silk ribbon and art deco buttons...

Before and after



Lounging in my bedroom



I think I need feather flats...

voyeurism

New York Magazine started a weekly column called the sex diaries.

The link leads to the first article from April and if you search for "sex diary" in the New York Mag website, you'll get a list of previous weekly columns.

I love knowing what others are doing... helps me feel that my own actions are in a respectable place along the continuum.

mish mash

a few things:
I changed out my iPod mini battery last night - v. proud because it required sharp tools and the removal of and dilly dallying with the motherboard.
I know less than nothing about electronics (it took me a good 10 minutes to figure out how to power up my first laptop... and other 5 years to learn that you say "power up" as opposed to "turn on")

Even though there is still one sad little responsibility for my last job, I am pretty much officially done with my previous job, I have a solid understanding of my current gig and I have no more outstanding obligations like, say, a wedding or something.

Today I actually left work at 5, went to the gym and got to listen to my iPod for longer than 2 songs (because somehow I managed to not completely fuck up the motherboard).

I cooked an awesome dinner with whole fresh raw food materials, with the exception of frozen fish.
I used herbs and lettuces and tomatoes from my garden (full disclosure, the only tomatoes that have successfully grown self-seeded from last years crop, and I only just noticed them last week... lame? Totally).

I've got healthy lunches planned and packed and I'm doing laundry at a reasonable rate instead of the once a month wash-a-thon of desparation.

and dishes done.

all i need is to change my sheets, take a lush bath (I'm thinking Avobath or maybe Youki-Hi...) and crack my book.

'night all!

success!

the wedding was smashing success
(I went with dottie 50s housewife shoes - btw)
the minister got a little heavy-handed in the homily about two being better than one.

by the time it was over, I was convinced that I was going to die in a freezing cold bed.
alone.
with no one to find my body.
or mourn my death.
and that singlehood is an indicator of being forsaken by a higher power.
and should be avoided at all costs.

and then I found out later that the minister recently experienced a divorce.

yeah...

it was a little intense.

but otherwise, the friends, company, food and wine were great.
everything necessary for a great party.

I have a problem

UPDATE: Behold! The feather shoe.
Created to distract me from writing a now long-forgotten final paper from some class that was vaguely important and that I am still paying for with student loans and will be for years to come.





Whadya think, appropriate for the rehearsal dinner?

These hold more than a little meaning for me, as days after completing them, my apartment caught fire.
And now it (and I) have dusted off the ashes and moved forward to better things.

Phoenix feather shoes? hmm... pretty hokey.
but I dig the concept.
and the shoes.

back to original post.

...speaking of consumerist mindsets...

I'm going away for 4 days.
f. o. u. r.

I have packed 6 pairs of shoes.
s. i. x.

3 JUST for the wedding.
Elle McPherson 2004-Met-Chanel-Gala-Rhinestone flat sandals?
Carrie Bradshaw Sex-and-the-City-you'll-put-an-eye-out-if-you're-not-careful lavendar-hued silver stilettos?
Amy Sedaris Dotty-Fifties-Housewife-reimagined-through-modern-ironic-sensibilities moss-green velvet heels with purple and black costume jewels and hot pink silk mini-bow mules?

crap.

i need to need less options.

p.s. ditching the stilettos, going with sandals... or dotty mules.

opera for the people

I mentioned my love of radio david byrne in an earlier post

anyway, this month's playlist is opera! wunderbar oper!

from his description about arias...
"They were the popular music of the day and the audiences were rowdy and noisy — you could eat, drink and probably fornicate in the theaters at that time. Farmers and fishermen sang these tunes in fields and bars — and so can we."

so tune in, turn on and enjoy stories about such things as affairs, murder, betrayal, passion, and sex.
lots and lots of sex.

and sometimes redemption...

but mostly sex.

check it out - streaming on itunes (under eclectic)
or at his website

did i mention the sex?

Smug domesticity

Slate had a great article about the inevitable shift of "chick lit" into "mommy lit."

I've been thinking for some time about some of the themes this critic touches on, mostly that of the smug domesticity.

Don't get me wrong, I have my Martha moments, and I love looking at the Restoration Hardward catalog and imaging a nice clean sage and silver life - but what get under my skin is the domesticity that invariably comes with marriage and the smug attitude that this is exactly what one's whole life has been leading up to.

...and the problems that come when slightly-harried-and-lovin'-it turns into oh-my-god-I-had-no-idea-this-is-what-it-would-be-like.

Because somehow it seems with all the lifestyle brands - Crate & Barrel, Pottery Barn, J Crew - we've taken the already romanticized notion of married life and turned it into a completely unattainable goal that leads many to disappointment and some into divorce.

I've been wondering if my generation may be completely unprepared for the realities of long-term, committed relationships.

It seem we're all about the narcissistic love, the its-about-me-being-me love; in other words, the conditional love. Which is fine, if you admit it's conditional. But we don't. We buy rings and take vows and stuff conditional into a box labeled "unconditional" and act suprised and defeated when it doesn't work out.

I think we need to find someway to let marriage be marriage, but in the context of the current consumer environment.

And yes, I said consumer.

Because choosing a mate is on some level like shopping.
What better indicator of who you are than who you choose to represent your other half.
And that's what lifestyle brands and consumer choices seem to be all about... identifying yourself as a member of some larger tribe.
Are you le creuset or cuisanart?
j crew or anthropologie?
starbucks or deweys?
hummer or prius?
east side or west side?
urban or suburban?

So you choose and get chosen, and things feel good and life sort of reflects the fantasy. But what about when the person you choose changes? Depression sets in? Or they find a commitment to a new diety? Or it's just not right? What then?

The tension between the conditional and the unconditional sets in.
(Buyer's remorse...?)
How long do you support them?
At what point is the change too much?
Is it selfish to leave or foolish to stay?

It's not like you can just... return them.
And you rarely have the power the change them (even if you can withhold sex - ladies, this DOES NOT WORK... sets a BAAAAAAD precedent and ruins things for those of us next in line...
seriously.)

And to add insult to injury, leaving seems to be this black hole of devastating personal failure since marriage and settling down have been pretty much accepted as the ultimate goal.

So obviously, it stands to reason that if you achieve it - and then lose it - you've somehow failed as a member of society.

I think we're setting ourselves up for failure.

Soul-sucking, depression-causing, people-breaking failure.

Are long-term relationships doomed as long as we have fickle consumer tendancies?

Would anyone get married if they knew its not all backyard barbeques and clutter-free living rooms?

I'm just curious to know since I'll be walking down an aisle as a bridesmaid for the SEVENTH TIME this weekend.
And a couple of friends have recently announced divorces/separations.

So there's a whole lotta stuff swirling around up there.

Potter Update Again (Spoilers)

Update: Slate agrees. "Did we really go through all this just to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione take up residence on a cul-de-sac?"


Worst epilogue EVER.

Obviously written for 6 year olds.

So... you go through what you go through and 19 years later, you're reduced to being a BORING ADULT.

That's it.

Get married.
Move to the suburbs.
Have babies (according to the math starting at 23 or 24 years old)
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

No mention of world travels.
Not a peep about career.
Professional athletics?
Scientific advances?
Insights into psychology of evil?

Nope, he's a dad - and from the lack of additional information, it appears he's just a dad.

I mean its fine to be a dad, who here would be here without a dad, but I just think there should be a little more to the characters at that point.
At least some nod to the legitimacy of life outside the whole marriage/suburbs/babies choices for a main character.

I get the whole "the boy without a family wants a family" thing, but it's such a horribly 2D version of family that it just seems jarring in comparison to the rest of the tale. It's like happily ever after in a fairy tale - believe in such simplicity and you're doomed to a life of disappointment.

Where's the fullness, the color, the adultness and complexity of our now adult characters?

Boring adults.

They've been reduced to stereotypically BORING ADULTS.

*sigh*

Potter update

Oodles of Awkward Teenage Love (Yea!)

And my favorite quote thus far... on Ron's birthday gift to Harry.

"This isn't your average book... It's pure gold. Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches...You'd be surprised, it's not all about wandwork, either."

*snort*

Wandwork?

O my...

Scandalous.

But such skills certainly don't hurt a fella either... muggle or otherwise.

UPDATE: 72% of all people who find my blog via search engines search the phrase "it's not all about wandwork, either"
I freaking LOVE you people.

Potter vs Silvertongue

While the whole world is going Potter-mad (and I'm not exempt - seen the flick, got the book today)

may I suggest another series, just as dark (if not more so), just as British and fantasy laden with films soon to be released.

His Dark Materials written by Philip Pulman is a trilogy that focuses on an orphaned girl (if not legally, then at least in her reality) raised around academics, fated to lead. It all the requisite pieces necessary for a good read: awkward adolescent love, deep friendship, corrupt power structures and alot of grey regarding good vs evil (only with some characters, many are pretty straightforeward).

What I love is his thoughts on religion and science - in one world religion is science - and in our world, there's character who renounces her life as a nun for science - and her monologue on the limitations that religion can put on life are very interesting (esp. considering its touted as a childrens' book).

They've been working on the movie, which is slated for release in early December (I'm going to Phoenix to watch it with an old friend). Sure, see the movie, but read the books first.

Just trying something

Part of my job is to attend our performances and interact with our audience members.

Like most classical arts organizations, we have a greying audience, especially on Sunday afternoons.

I've never been much of a doodler, but this crowd seems to demand it.
I know my grandfather did a lot of cartooning, maybe its just been lying dormant...

This was done from memory the other day, not very good, but not bad for a first attempt.
Everytime I would walk by the ladies' room, I would see the old men... waiting... bored... looking a little like birds on a wire or vultures, even.

I think I need to bring a sketchbook with me from now on.



I do hope to get back to posting more original art soon, but between deadlines, performances and general summer busy-ness, it's been difficult to focus on art.

From Springfield

Watch it Lisa, I played baritone sax AND graduated a year early.

Go Isotopes!

These are a few of my favorite things

I also picked up this book at the CPL booksale - again, not sure how I'm finding time to enjoy it, but I promised myself I'd savor it, if only for these references...

Scientific America, Horn & Hardart, The Fox Sisters, blind pigs and speakeasies, quaint sexual euphamisms like... "Mina sounded close to her crisis," French terms of endearment and oyster bars.

Because oysters were the french fries of the early 20th century... a concept I've always loved.

Definitely recommended reading for a cool October evening.

UPDATE: My initial ardour for this book has cooled significantly. I think I was so giddy from the rarely-made references, that I saw past the moment when the story began to fall apart.

But the first half or so is still good, but the ending sort of tumbled into uncertain confusion.

my favorite 14

For those with even a low to middlin' interest in celebutards, tanarexics or merged names (TomKat, Brangelina...) check out Gallery of the Absurd for a low-brow snicker and good art.

She's a witty lass, that 14, and has a series currently featuring celebrity moms - here's a detail of the Candy Spelling image... subject aside, I frickin' LOVE this froggie. I don't know if it's the Marty Feldman eyes, the fifties flip, the crown or the Hapsburg chin(s), but the idea of an amphibian on my shoulder to guide us is somewhat intriguing.



A fairy god-froggie?
A froggie conscience?
A froggie for all seasons?
Froggie... on my shoulder... makes me happeeeee (thanks to J. Denver)

What a great question

I managed to get to the Cleveland Public Library for the book sale last week (perk of working downtown, along with Teahouse Noodle lunches, seeing long-lost acquaintances on the street and last minute al fresco happy hours at the bar downstairs).

Anyway, I picked up Amy Tan's "Bonesetter's Daughter" for a $1 - I enjoyed some of her previous work, but having experienced not so good luck with fiction lately, I was suspect.

I proceeded to gobble it up in 3 days time (amazing, considering it was a truly-evenings-and-weekends-heavy kind of work week). I highly recommend it.

But what inspired me to post about this book, was an answer to a question on page 341.

"...If I want anything, it's to know what's possible to want."

I don't come from a guilt inducing background, but I must admit to being a bit of a needless wonder.
As though wanting something translates to having unreasonable expectations -
so it's mostly easier to train yourself to expect nothing, right?

Logically, this would result in nothing but exceeded expectations, but in reality, I think it leads to a whole lot of nothing.

I'm not endorsing magial thinking, but I think maybe it's ok to want things.

Where have I been?

For a number of years, I worked at University Circle, and came to have a varied and full series of day-dreams regarding the "Center for Structural Biology." I can't find a decent photo of it, but it was a repurposed furniture building, painted red with abstract metal shapes on the sides.

You could never see what it was they were doing in there, other than cultivating an air of mystery.
I never knew anyone who worked there, but I often fantasized that they had to be brilliant and were in all ways more evolved and fascinating than the average person.

At one point, I decided my future my somehow was intimately connected to that building and those within it (and there is no logical reason for me to think that, by the way) so imagine my sadness and chagrin when I saw it had been razed!

I've called a number of friends who work at Case, and they weren't sure what I even talking about (!)

I was REALLY upset - like some prophecy gone unrealized or potential wasted.
And everytime I drive by, I get a rush of sadness and confusion.

But I'm happy to report that have a new building (ok, so they got it in 2005, like the title says, Where has I been?)

It's newer, and I'm sure they can do a lot more structural biology, but I just can't tap my fantasy life into it - It was truly bound up in the old building.

*sigh*

progress...

make love like a pair of black wizards

I can't stop listening to...



Of Montreal - The Party's Crashing Us

pure pop sugar - sticky and sweet and addictive

all i want to do is skip and do cartwheels when i hear this

ouch!

remember that post?
the one about the beaches?
and how great they are?
yeah....
i have a pretty serious ear infection now.
see, edgewater, it had a water advisory up.
and i ignored it.
twice.
in one weekend.
and now i have swimmers' ear.
and i can't get in until friday a.m.
and it's OUTCHIE.

i need beer.

self conscious

i had a dream last night that i received 3 comment emails -
each saying
"when you started this blog,
it was about the visuals.
what happened?"

all essentially trashing my written word.

which is fine

it WAS about the visuals.

here's some peebs to make up for it...



ahhhh... that's it...

nice.

Waterbaby

Hot.
Going to beaches.
Can't blog.
Too much sand.
Sand + MacBook = expensive poseur vignette where J. Crew meets
The New Yorker

but how stylish...

On that note, a practical users guide to Northeast Ohio Beaches...

Edgewater (Cleveland)
Excellent for the unplanned foray.
Pros:
It's the populace beach.
You'll never feel unattractive.
Good wave action.
Wide in breadth and length (but sort of shallow).
Lots of terra firma real estate for extended sunning and swimming.
Kites.
Sailboats.

Cons:
It's the populace beach.
Sewer run off when it rains - lots of debris.
Shallow.
Jet skis are blind to buoys.
Lifeguards overly fond of the vague "whistle and point."
Bathrooms recall streets of England circa 1640.

Bradstreet Landing (Rocky River)
Less about the swimming (its technically verboten), more about the kayaking
Pros:
Great put-in for kayaks or small sail boats.
No other swimmers.
Anarchy in the water.

Cons:
Beach is 95% mussel shells.
Dogs and dog poo.
Fishing lines.
Getting yelled at by the cops for illegal swimmin'.

Huntington Beach (Bay Village)
The OC right here in Northeast Ohio
Pros:
Long with lots of little rock piers.
Ample swimming room.
Good view of downtown.
Clean water.
Honey Hut.
Hot teens skimboarding (so Americana).

Cons:
You will NEVER feel attractive again.
The every-45-minute-15-minute swim break (what!).
Parking (all the hot teens have convertibles which they park there at 8 am - so it seems)
Kind of a far drive from downtown.
Not much diversity - v. suburban.

Lakeview Beach (Lorain)
Best Beach Ever (I grew up going there, practically unsupervised)
Pros:
Best kept secret in NEOhio.
HUGE sand beach.
Large swimming area.
Lovely park with rose garden and bocce ball court.
Fountain with light that change color (it's super cool).
Great view of the Lorain Lighthouse.
Good boat watching.
Water has been cleaned considerably.

Cons:
40 minute drive from downtown.
Otherwise, perfect.

Other beaches of note:
Huron
Kelleys Island
Mentor Headlands
Fairport Harbor

Vermillion River (not a beach, I know, but hiking up the river is awesome, there are waterfalls for showers and rapids that are excellent as make-shift whirlpools.

I haven't been East at all this summer...
please feel free to fill me in on your fave beaches.

off to get the sand out of my hair.
la!

so yeah, fireworks

see - i deliver when I want to.

if you can only make one fireworks display in northeast ohio, i highly recommend the display at lakewood park.
first off, they spend an inordinate amount of money to put it on (suggested expenditures ranged from $20,000 to $30,000 to $60,000 and increased proportionately to the amount of beer being imbibed.)

second, the entire free world appeared to be in attendance.
maybe even some of the not-so-free-world.

anyhoo - it was damn enjoyable.

i never cease to be amazed at fireworks - they're pretty multi-sensory:
the colors, the brightness, the percussion of the explosions and that fizzlie sound at the end.
and of course the smell.

and i love that the amazement spans all ages and interests - no matter how green-skinned from lack of daylight or how computer/tv bound you are, you're probably stepping outside when you hear that sound.

i still can't believe how many people there were at the park.
when asked how many people i thought there were, my response was,
"all of them"

i told my friend that this is what they'd be up against in a large-scale evacuation.
but it was a excellent mob, as mobs go
they moved at a good clip, no trampling.

i would be comfortable with that mob.

so yeah, lakewood fireworks - extremely good.

Lame

I know
I know
busy
not making art
not thinking deeply
or thinking too deeply
to be bothered to share

maybe something to come
about...

fireworks...?

Peacock

I've been messing around some other motifs, too (in addition to hearts).

Namely, peacock feathers.

One great upside to having specific motif interests, is that every so often, they come into vogue and inspiration is everywhere - this was never more true than last fall.

Here is a pillowcase - mid-embroidery...


and a mosaic "stained glass" votive made in Dec 2004... Thanks to MJL for the glass and instruction...


Here it is - lit up...


again, sorry for the poor picture quality, I do plan on getting on a real one at some point between beaching and working and brunching and such.

Thursday Post

I would if I could
but I can't 'cause I'm tired...

Let's just take a moment with Peter Beard, shall we?



Sometimes it's nice to turn off your brain
and stare at something pretty.

Random thought

Thesaurus...
if you look at the word quickly... do you (like me) think for a split second that it probably rhymes with "gurus?"
I kept thinking I was misspelling it.

Ghost writer

As part of my job, I have to get letters of support from prominent individuals in the community.
Turns out - as part of my job, I have to write letters of support from prominent people in the community.
I guess I should have known.
It's just a little disappointing, you know.
Like I just saw the man behind the curtain.
But I guess Ben Stein was always way cooler than Nixon.
Not that I'm Ben Stein.
But you see where the analogy was going.

Caught in a Web (June 2007)

Vintage silk thread on silk velvet, paper.

Wild Things in Captivity

Wild things in captivity
while they keep their own wild purity
won't breed, they mope, they die.

All men are in captivity,
active with captive activity,
and the best won't breed, though they don't know why.

The great cage of our domesticity
kills sex in a man, the simplicity
of desire is distorted and twisted awry.

And so, with bitter perversity,
gritting against the great adversity,
they young ones copulate, hate it, and want to cry.

Sex is a state of grace.
In a cage it can't take place.
Break the cage then, start in and try.

-D.H. Lawrence