Well, we're a pretty decent, if unmeddlesome bunch. 7 votes for helping a couple of friends only if asked won out. 3 votes for keeping out of the mess entirely took a distant second. 2 of you would dive in without a call for help and one vote showed up for ditching the troublesome pair.
This isn't a place I normally go on my lil blog, but when I saw this I was overcome.
via - JMG
The Girl rediscovered the binky this morning. The Boy delivered it to her as gift to deter her cranky mood. She hasn't used it in a long time and seems to have forgotten how. She clamps it in her teeth like a cigar and turns up the other corner of her mouth giving her the overall look of one of the Bowery Boys.
About a month ago I did a post titled, The Weight. The image I included was of an unusual little box; beautiful, beguiling and with just a hint of dread. That image was of a music box, the design of which was based on one by Philip LeMarchand. LeMarchand is fictional character created by the otherwise abysmal Clive Barker for his Hellraiser. In that fiction LeMarchand created intricate puzzle boxes that when opened invited various demons into our world from hell. It was a clever and frightening concept.
Pyramid Galleries has taken those "designs", added their own extensive histories and flourishes, and turned them into music boxes. The boxes are quite extraordinary and if you ignore the rather spooky nonsense that accompanies them they can be quite lovely objets.
The preceeding post pic is a good example of what it looks like here today except that we can't see the mountains at all.
The golden hazy air to which I alluded yesterday has entirely lost whatever small charms it may have had. 800 wildfires, some 200 miles north, that were set off by dry lightning over the weekend, are pouring smoke and particulate matter into the central valley of Cali and essentially shortening we residents' lives, breath by breath. The air is thick with it and now an inversion has only added to our misery.
Things I hope...
Got me some torn cartilage. That's what the doc says. Five weeks or so ago I was putting a cabinet up in the laundry room. The screws were being obstinate. I was having to use quite a bit of force and the drill was torquing. The next morning my wrist was killing me. When I saw the doc the x-ray showed nothing and it was diagnosed as tendonitis - 4 to 6 weeks for recovery.
What's on my mind is, of course, reflected in my blog. It's only natural. The same goes for my weekly polls. Usually, I come up with the poll when I am writing up the results of the previous week. I vacate my mind - "not so hard in his case," I hear you saying - and whatever is there pops up for the poll.
What a bunch of breeders we all would be if given the right circumstances. 6 votes for more than three kids took the crown, while three kids got 2 votes and two kids got 4. One child and no kids each got a vote. Breed on, I guess.
A full weekend had by all. Much vino, much laughter, much perspective. We have returned to the Bay too infrequently over the last couple of years and it was grand to see everyone. A group dinner on Saturday with RC and her ageless mate. Their son has grown to NBA point guard height and looks as if he isn't finished. The Wiley ones were in attendance with their growing boy. We discussed that boy and ours forming a Boy Band - they have the charms - in order to supplement our retirement. The boys seemed sadly disinterested. Perhaps age (3 and 6) is a factor. No band names were proffered but I suggest, Boys 2 Older Boys.
When I was 15, my mother arranged for me to meet one of only two idols I had as a boy (the other being Harlan Ellison - hmmm, I wonder where my curmudgeonly nature came from). Mom was in the music business and through a few connections she got me backstage for a quick handshake with the man who made me laugh. After the handshake and few polite words from him my mother started easing me out the dressing room door, but this man that I admired, my humor hero, said, "No, I have time. You should stay and talk." So we talked, for maybe an hour or so, about what was funny and who made him laugh and why. It was a great thing for him to do for a 15 year old kid. When I finally left, floating on cloud nine, he promised to send me an autographed photo. When I got it three weeks later I hung it on my wall with pride. It read, in part, "Thank you for taking the time to chat with me. I will never forget it."
Going away for the weekend tomorrow (a rather long weekend if we're starting on Thursday). Interestingly enough we are off to someone's surprise birthday party on Friday, the day after mine - my birthday, that is, not my surprise party. There's nothing that surprises you once you reach a certain age and that certain age I have most definitely reached. But the relative youngster for which this bash is bashing has not yet achieved surpriseless birthdays. So we will wish her well and encourage her to enjoy it now.
So here I sit staring at an unfamiliar screen, typing on an unfamiliar keyboard, waiting for an unfamiliar tech to arrive and (I pray) repair the familiar. You just don't realize how attached you have become to a device until it is no longer usable. It isn't just an attachment, it's also the fact that all my bookmarks and settings are there and not here. Oh yeah, and our quicken is loaded on the other so someone like me who checks and rechecks our finances and pays bills daily is feeling a bit out of control. I don't like that.
My desktop crashed this morning. I got the Blue Screen of Death and can't even get into safe mode; just its deep blue to match my mood. The last three days have crapped. Posts will be rare (er) until the box is fixed. As it is I'm now using my wife's laptop and nothing is the same anymore.
On this, Father's Day, honoring your parents is what you, as a group, are most likely to toss aside. The remaining choices all got an equal shot with four of you least likely to build yourself an idol, four unlikely to covet a neighbor's spouse (must be dedicated or have terribly unattractive neighbors), and three of you, interestingly, least likely to lie.
Cruddy computer day. I had to rebuild our wireless network here at home when the router died an untimely death. Wires, software installs, WEP protocols. It sucked. This is the best you're getting from me today.
The tornado and its aftermath last night at a western Iowa Boy Scout camp is tragic. With four boys killed and four dozen injured it stands to reason that grief is substantial. I can't imagine the pain the families of the victims are experiencing. I just know that it must be great and my heart goes out to them.
Remember my post a while back about diet and baby gender? Well, here comes another study. According to the journal Reproductive Biology and Endocrinology, it seems that mama sheep fed a diet rich in polyunsaturated fats four weeks prior to breeding were significantly more likely to produce males. So, adding a some walnuts, flaxseed oil, or herring to that meal plan could increase the chances of getting a boy for you, and ewe.
With the celebration of male fecundity on the table for Sunday, I just want to put this out there. It makes no difference from whence their popularity is derived, dog tags, regardless of their base metals, monogramming, or precious gem inlays, are not tasteful jewelry. Please do not gift them to your father (or anyone else). Stick with a tie.
On a tangent of yesterday's post...
It's summer. It's not too hot, but mid-90's is the rule right now and that says welcome to summertime. Since my tastes in music are closely related to time of day, weather, and seasons, summer brings a change to my audio indulgences. When the days get longer and heat becomes the rule guilty pleasures get their due. For some reason top down, cruise town, pure pop bubbles my mood.
We're thinking about taking a little vacation to Hawaii later this year. It would work out because my wife would attend a medical conference there. I was looking at the Fairmont Orchid where the conference would be held; the conference gets a special deal on rooms. When I plugged in the conference code and pulled up the page for room availability I got:
I've written about photographer Amy Stein's work before. I find it whimsical and disturbing. Her latest series finds humor and great sadness in our continuing confrontation with wildlife in suburbia. Her large scale prints are on display at the Robert Koch gallery in San Francisco through August 23rd.
Story passed along to me by my wife.
I chanced upon some literary masterpieces today.Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
The politician was gone, but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr. Pepper can.
Well, it seems nobody pre-determines their household duties; groundrules aren't for you. It's rather evenly divided, however, between dividing as you go, doing as needed, and duking it out. Trying to pull a fast one on the one you love comes in last, but very close to the pack. We all do what we can, I guess.
The previous post got me thinking about Black Randy and the Metrosquad, something I haven't done in many a year. Their only full length recording, 1980's Pass the Dust, I Think I'm Bowie, is long since out of print and the CD reissue of it from Sympathy For the Record Industry in 94' was dropped from their catalog more than a decade ago. Not a whole lot of folks have heard of them, let alone heard the music..jpg)
Riotgrrrls celebrate! Break out your Bikini Kill and crank it up! Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains is coming (finally) to DVD. The 1981 cult classic that was the inspiration for so many girl bands and the movement they led (and though he'd deny it, probably a little of Cameron Crowe's, Almost Famous) will be released by Rhino to inaugurate their Rock and Roll Cinema series on September 16th.
If you've ever dreaded the idea that the Rapture might come and you wouldn't have the opportunity to thumb your nose at those who aren't swept up to heaven, have I got a website for you.
She's done it now. With her no-hold-barred, give me what I want approach, Ms. Clinton has now painted herself and Obama into a corner. She has blindly lost exactly that which she seems to have desired.
