Real Community--Only 2 beers

AFTER BELLYDANCE--Our little sixway boulevard intersection hasn't been this busy since homecoming last year. Well I take that back. The current generation of Strollerbabies seem to do a lap in the evening, but I just wave at them. Last night society got personal. As daBug pulled into it's parking spot I couldn't help but see Gerry & Stacy with both of their kidlets walking up the sidewalk. They were returning from the Jr. High Band Open House at West Middle School. We all stood around yapping.

Pete appeared from the backyard.
I showed Luca how to shimmy in a dance belt. The boys got bored with the grown ups and drifted inside.
Isabel drifted out. Jennifer wandered by with her pupstars (one of whom is named Isabel!) Then daughter lost her mind!! She had been climbing in the crab apple tree and from her vanatge point she saw--glory to the highest!! Her peeps were approaching! Her squeals of joy (she seems to be doing that a lot lately. The squealing thing. I hope it is a phase that will quickly run its course) were echoed when Lillian saw her. Izzy clambered down from the tree and Lily broke into a sprint. As they reached their respective curbs all the grown ups yelled "STOP!" The momentum of little girls in full tilt magnetic mode is a powerful thing. They teetered, precariously balanced on the safety of the sidewalk, desperate to get to one another, knowing they shouldn't cross yet. Brooke, Sean, Lily & whoa that isn't Coco! That is Elliot! And Mary Nell! Brooke's mommy is in town! YAY!

I had a nagging feeling that I should invite everyone into the backyard for beers. But we only had two. I whispered to DH...How many beers do we have? Just two. I tried to remember how many bottles of white were in the rack. I knew NONE were in the fridge. Maybe ice tea? How quick can I get it made? Where is Martha Stewart when ya need her? Why do I not have all this prepared already? I wanted to move the conversation to chairs and snackies. I felt like I should be enabling the casual civic planning--new events, potential fundrasiers. ShadowArtFair 2 rumors. Pete could sense my frustrated hostess hormones. There was really good energy happening. This needs to be supported, but the sad fact was that after an hour of yoga and a hour of bellydance with no dinner...*I* needed support! I kept yawning. Leaning backward onto Darlinghubby. The sweat was starting to dry and I was getting chilly. I wanted to listen to all these great ideas, from a chair!

This is the embodiment of community that you just can't impose with 20/20 Task Forces.

Some people just should not knit

I followed the directions!

namecalling

Darling Husband and I had a bit of a hysterical moment yesterday. Between listening to NPR & lining all the cold air returns with window screen (a seemingly successful bat prevention maneuver thus far) we have decided there exist certain names that if we were saddled with them-- we would HAVE to change our monikers. The first would be Dick Buttkiss, also Randy Hoser and Rod Palmer. Slim Johnson is right out also. They could hold club meetings at Penguin Liquors (in Lafayette IND) or if they are in Rochester MN they could hang out at the Pump N Munch.

Izzy's disposable cote!

YAY ME!! I am doing the happy dance. I got the sleeves attached!! Daughter has clothes!! YAY!! She likes it and says it is comfortable. YAY!! I finally gave up on the machine and basted them in where they needed to be THEN machine stitched the seams. They are like 94% flat. There is an interesting pleat on the one shoulder but it is WAAAY better than my turquoise bliaut with it's scary armpit wads! The neckline is a little askew... but it doesn't look *too* tacky. I figure she is gonna grow out of it in three months anyway so she can get more new stuff at Val Day.

little lavender cote

Reference the name of this blog. yeah. The sewing thing. *HUGE SIGH* It appears that the chilldwen will be accompanying us to South Dakota for Sig and G's coronation in mid September. This is wonderful except that Isabel has NO GARB. To correct myself, she has garb but it is all size 5. She is currently a skinny 8. All coltish legs. She chose some loverly lavender linen at Haberman's. I roughed out a pattern from the one chemise that has an appropriate fit. The gores are the best I have ever done, very swirly and happy. The whole gown should have been completed last Friday. Alas and forsooth we are still lacking sleeves and nicey touches. The reason the sleeves cannot be pronounced 'finished' is because some how-- some way-- one arm is two inches higher than the other one?? GACK. I am fully competetent when one asks for iambic pentameter, cheesecake, long bows, beef brisket. Ask me to research something. I can herd cats. I can change the oil on my car. But freaky darling... I CAN'T SEW!! Thank the goddess Melisant is having a workshop next week. I am gonna get arms on this thing today. It really shouldn't be this difficult!


BAT COUNT= O indoor bats!! Two restful nights of sleep in a row. Tentative answer seems to be found in blocking cold air returns. Our house was built in 1923 by the owner, his dad and his father in law. Many things are not quite square. The placement of the duct work is erratic at best and ancient at worst. We have these wooden grates set into the floor that are composed of 1"X2" rectangles. Very pretty. Very UN bat proof. Pete is gonna pick up some window screen or air filter media today and we shall fun lining the grates tonight!

Spartyboy back at school

Matthew and Rick are both ensconced in their new digs. Matt is on the terrace in Shaw Hall. Richard is a new home-owner and they are about five miles apart. So we rented a cute little u-haul and moved their sweaty butts out. After moving uncounted file cabinet drawers and purchasing $534.14 worth of books--- I really enjoyed the margarita at El Azteco. Once his stuff was in his room and he had his textbooks (and a new umbrella!) Matty blew us off completely. The 'rents were summarily DISMISSED. Got a sweaty hug and shooed away. We are all guessing he had a mysterious hottie lined up. He claimed he was heading into his third shower. That is about the only reason I can fathom he would blow off "real" food. The Enchiladas were of course abfab. We nailed two baskets of chips. The sopapillas are one of my favorite things on earth. If we didn't already have such fine Latin food available here in Ypsitucki; I would try and tempt the El Az people into setting up a store here. Eh--they are worth the hour drive. Especially with friends/fam at the other end.

BAT COUNT=4 wins 1 loss

I have declared war on the bats. It is a pathetic and feeble war but it is my war. I do not want to kill them. I just don't want them in my bedroom. Apparently we have a colony in the attic. The toddler bats are too stoopid to go out the way everybody else does. They get lost and fall down the inside of the wall and scratch around trying to get out. RIGHT BY MY BED! I have gotten so twitchy from lack of sleep and hyperawareness of periphial vision that I swear I am gonna need to visit Prince Valium.

BAT EVICTION: STEP ONE Last night we sat outside watching the eaves to see where the little insect suckers were exiting. Sat (okay, I did hog the hammock for a while) out there for an hour. NADA. It started to rain. On Saturday evening we had slept in Peanut's room (she stayed at Lily's) but she has a twin. Pete crashed in the Funky Monk room. No like sleeping alone.
Last night we slept up in Matt's room (he has a DBL mattress and he wasn't in it! No bats upstairs. Petey covered the downstairs cold air returns with newspaper and magazines and it seems so far-- that we are bat free. We can't caulk them out until Sept, so after Coronation we shall hire professional bat dudes to climb around and seal us up. Perhaps preventing this nightmare next year.

FoRP's Hot & Wet Tunes

Before the torrential downpour and lightening transformed our clever cakeWADE into an umbrella toting laughfest. Pat Grimes said the most wonderful thing. I can't recall the quote exactly, but he had started to improv lyrics while he & Steve Newhouse were playing. The lyrics were discussing how ridiculously petty people can be-- and that as a result we all need healing-- especially the democrats in the area. The round of spontaneous applause during this song was genuinely heartwarming. I have watched my friends and neighbors wasting a lot of energy on negative thinking and familial infighting. Thank you Pat for pointing out that we need to get on with it!

Gerrry Butterwick was in top form. I can listen to him forever. I wish I could have been more attentive and not so nervous about the giant black clouds rolling in. My stomach was in a huge knot the whole evening. The one thing (besides dead jellyfish) that freaks me out is bad weather. There is nothing I can do to control it. It just happens in all its scary glory. I kept telling myself it was just twilight but the occasional raindrops turned into a shower and then the lightening flashed. Eric whistled the kids from the pool. Chris and Mark tucked the tableful of beautiful pastries under the shade fly and the party rocked on.

Warren got the squeezebox all ready to roll and there was much cake dispersal. How quickly can we get distribute sugar? Go kids go! I am not taking all that frosting home! Gerry joined in unplugged and the cakewade was nearly complete. One more cake to go-- It was Jaime's b-day that night and her man Kif got her her very own candles glowing in the raindrops birthday cake! How cool is that? What a lucky girl! To have an accordian/guitar combo and 50 of your friends and neighbors sing happy birthday in a thunderstorm? I bet she doesn't forget this night soon!

HULLABALOO
I am in love. What a rockin band! They are as much fun as Groovespoon used to be. Groovespoon was group from my wildwoman South Haven-Sauagatuck days with Eric & Petey. Groovespoon was my favorite party band. I haven't seen (or heard of them) since I lost my shirt (literally) and was dancing barefoot in broken glass. That was the night we picked up the hot Korean bungee jumper and ate chilicheese fries. RedlightPete reminded us of our own mortality that night.

Aside from my reminiscing about my wild youth, I really enjoyed Hullabaloo last night. Their funky spirit and can do attitude despite the dangers of trombones and lightening have endeared them to me. Pete&I have promised each other to seek them out live. Gotta get a CD! Here is a quote I snatched from their myspace page-- Blending Afro-Caribbean rhythms and a swinging horn section with original punky ska rock, Hullabaloo really live up to their name, creating an outrageous uproar everywhere they go. With an almost Mothers-like approach, the band variously contains anywhere from six to eleven members. Either way, stripped down or stacked up, Hullabaloo is an upbeat, dance crazy, chaotic joy ride that is both catchy and weirdly experimental. Based out of Ann Arbor, Hullabaloo is well known and well respected and rightfully so.
-Ryan A. Bunch, Toledo City Paper

"Rockin..totally rockin." That was my comment as we finally herded the chilldwens to the safety of the truck. Isabel and I ran back through the heavy rain to the deck to share her comment with them. "You guys should be on NPR!" I translated that she meant WEMU. They grinned. They knew exactly what she meant.

Now...I think it was awesome that they even agreed to do a charity gig. But that their poor sound guy, Carl, set up everything and then broke it all back down (stoopid conductive water) before they even got to play-- was sad for me. But then... during the Cakewalk, when I noticed that in the boiler room, these amazing folks were warming up?!? I was flabbergasted. It was pouring rain. The thunder and lightening were making their presence very well known. The brass line came out and started a New Orleans Parade of follow the leader around the pool deck. I almost cried with relief and happy vibes. I had NO idea what to do after the cakewade ended. My voice was cracking from this crappy summer cold. A little tutu girl was in tears because she didn't win a cake. At that precise moment I was about to lose it. But then music truly makes things better!
Les Bontemps Roullez!! The Saints are Marching in! It was so real and so good. It also made me very happy when they played a version of Midnight in Tunisia. How often does one get to hear one's ring tone live?? (Just kidding I do love that song!) Thank You Hullabaloo.

Freakin Bats!!

Last Saturday evening Rick and Tim came over just to get some quality time before they split for Yale & Lansing. We sat in the living room yapping and drinking Woodchuck and other green bottled beverages. They got to meet "the" bat. "A" bat? Whatever--it was almost amusing watching their various reactions. While Timmy of course took the scholarly mode and quickly started researching bats online. Pete and Rick both leapt into aggressive HUNTBAT mode with Bree (aka stoopiddawg) leading the way. I was happy to have *three big strong men* (read three inebriated twits) in the house allowing me to cower on the couch alternating laughing and ducking out of the way. Petey and Bree succeeded in showing their expertise. CAUGHT! We put her on a leash and all five of us released the Bat out in the streetlit intersection. Bree was sure we were nuts. Dogs obviously do not catch and release. The bat of course flew right into the crabapple tree.

Now last night, well actually 3:36 a.m., I hear A NEW noise. NOT chittering, NOT scratching on the wall beside my bed. Bree, new codename Batdog, is doing her "I am very interested in that thing in the air" dance. She is leaping up and down and snapping into the air. She knew exactly what to do. This was gonna get praise from *both* pinkies.

SCENE: darkened masterbedroom

ME: Hunny? (patting husband)
Pete: inaudible grunt
M: you awake?
P: Just go into the E.R. and have them take a look at you.
M. No. hunny, I hear something.
P: *%@$!

We both wait. Bree seems to have chilled out and we almost fall back to sleep then--the undeniable fluttering of batwings sweeping over my head

M: No hunny. It's a bat.
P: Son of a *&^%!

I hide under the covers. Pete armed with a pillowcase towelsnaps the flying bat. Nice shootin Tex! The bat drops to the ground like...well... like the dead bat it is. Bree pounces on it. They remove Bat to picnic table. Where it still is. Now the yogini in me is sadden at the death of any creature. BUT I have to consider some things. A.) If this Bat is the repeat offender. The batissue is solved. (Unlikely as the attic is prly FULL of bats. Don't they hibernate soon?) B.) How deep does one dig a bat grave? C.) Did this bat want to be cremated? D.) Who knew my husband had deadly towelsnap action!

Cakewade

Tomorrow night is the concert SOUNDWAVES at the Rutherford Municipal Pool. Assuming we don't have a storm date the above pastries willbe donated by ME! to the "CakeWade" which will entertain the guests between sets. Have you ever been to a cake walk with live accordian music? Chocolate Overload Bundt Cake, Lemon Raspberry Sheetcake, "It's your birthday" Cake and a choc. chip cheesecake. All ho-made and 80% organic! Please don't let it rain!

Stalking aged celebs

Now that the World Cup is over... poor Zizou; I can start tending to "real" sport--that is ICE HOCKEY! This morning the Freep proclaimed Nick Lindstrom was the new Detroit Red Wings Captain. I am good with that. Pete is gonna have to get a jersey without the "A", maybe a new one with a "C". Very good. After seeing Cheli at the Tigers game it seems all the Wings want to be captain.

Now onto my next celeb hottie

I love the "READ" posters. I have one of Misha somewhere and David Bowie too..but this one..he just looks so...OLD. I am not going to discuss the state of the Igster. Sigh. What about poor Sean Connery? Easily the hottest dude on the face of the earth. But, again...if the guys I find attractive are shopping for walkers..What does that make me? NOT 18! sigh

After much digging around on TLC this morning I finally found a pic of Tonks in costume.Natalia Tena!! purrrr... Finally somebody who has control of her wrinkles! Between she and Helena Bonham Carter as Bella there is gonna be some pretty eyecandy in OoTP! None will be so pretty as Young Snape.
Now there is a wet dream just waiting to happen. This angst ridden darling is played by a stunning young Brit named Alec Hopkins. It is hard to find any decent pics of him but there is this backstage pass...look who is sitting under the tree.
It is interesting to see behind the scenes on a film set. I would love to be there. I would be thrilled to just hold the boom for my Snapey-poo. (snicker)

Wild book cut loose!

I read. Quite a bit. I am happy to be toting around Otto Cartellieri's 1929 edition of THE COURT OF BURGUNDY right now. In fact I should prly be reading it instead of screwing around with this blogthing but..hey all work and no play makes Jack an axemurderer!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z11B9L2awVA

Later today (about 2ish) I will be releasing a paperback into the wild. I wonder if the person who finds it will log in. This particular book was purchased at Lisa's Border's in Baldwin NY. I read roughly 40% of it aloud to my husband and kids (eep!) on our drive home from Falling Water in PA. Tis a well travelled tome. I have released 27 books into the wild. Bookcrossing.com is a bookfreak's mecca. If it weren't for this lovely way to share I would prly be buried in trashy paperbacks and books I was sure if I read... were gonna save my life. (for example Parenting books or bios of famous people I admire. Bill Clinton really let me down on that one! What a piece o crap!)

Another way I like to share a good story is to give books as gifties. When we were at Border's I convinced Lisa to read Diana Gabaldon's Outlander. *sigh* The first and most excellent of a series. We made the clerk dig into the hidden second layer on the "G" shelf to procure the store's only copy of this first volume. The shelf was of course "fronted" with eight or nine copies of her latest, Breath of Snow and Ashes and several copies of Lord John Gray's Private Matter. Which I still haven't got to. There was also a big hardcover of The Outlandish Companion which I haven't looked at because..well frankly I am afraid to indulge myself in the OC depths of another fandom.

JKRowling has pretty much absorbed my brain entirely (dear Severus I KNOW you are not pure evil). Yes, dear reader, it is my Sevvie I adore. The fictional character-- not Alan Rickman who is a fine actor when he is NOT voicing little roombas or trying to kill Mel Gibson (or Bruce Willis; whomever is the protagonist in the Die Hard films.) If I succumb to the pressure of the Ladies of Lallybroch www.lallybroch.com I am quite sure the bathroom will never be cleaned. dabook will never be finished (currently producing page 184--how many days till Solstice??) and the children will have to subsist on PB&J's and yogurt cups! Stoopiddawg will run away and I will just sit in my squishychair with a vodka tonic and a pile of dark chocolate and read myself into a stupor. I maybe unstable but at least I will be happy!

Dead Jellyfish

Several years ago Pete was taking a class at Harvard. Zoli was about 9 or 10 months old (okay-- so that would tell you it was ten years ago not several!) and he and I learned several things on that long ago trip, one thing we learned was that strollers and Public Transportation are not necessarily compatible. We also learned (at the Boston Aquarium) that jellyfish were amazing and prettiful creatures. There was a floor to ceiling tank filled with glowing white jellies. They were zen and peaceful. Floating like ballerinas. Isn't life astounding? Darwin. all that. I was under the niave impression that I LIKED jellyfish. I was horribly wrong.

Last week the fam (sans Matt) and I were lucky enough to set up base(ment) camp at dearfriends Lisa&Paul's as we did a quick explore of Long Island and NYC. On Monday morning we headed to Long Beach. The weather was stunningly perfect. The white sand was spotless. We encountered minimal intrusion by other hominoids as it was Monday morning--Lisa's quilting pal Nancy showed up with her kidlets and we spent the day trying to get my sorry ass into the surf. It was embarassing.

Normally, I would rank myself above average in the bravery department. Cool with snakes, heights are good thing for short people--no problem speaking in public (I could prly stand to be LESS brave here actually) and really..like the JRT doggies generally *think* I am bigger than reality. If it weren't for stoopid knee I would fight heavy in the SCA I know it. So, constant reader-- now that I have illustrated my "manhood" let it be known-- I love to swim. Summer swims in the Great Lakes since I was what 2? I swim in murky cow ponds complete with tadpoles, perch and snapping turtles. I have swum in incredibly deep natural springs. I once tried to swim in the Flint River--luckily more sober freinds lifted me bodily from that toxic stew--but I had never dampened my suit in saltwater. I was beyond excited. "They" say you are much more bouyant. The waves this morning were ripe for body surfing. They were huge! I was so impressed. Lisa and Nancy both laughed. Apparently these were lame-o waves. In fact, the water was so "calm" Nancy was afraid her surferboy 15 year old down the beach would want to go home. Well, these waves were bigger than Lake Michigan waves in a thunderstorm! I was ready for this. Drop off lunch, water bottles, toys, towels-- all things toted by parental units--lose the sari and hurry to catch up with the kids. STOP.

Isabel had of course hit the water first; little mermaid that she is. Except that the Ocean had hit her right back. A big wave crashed her over and she got a rude introduction to sand, salt walter and dashed expecations. There stood my little Daughter of Northshield, normally tough as nails (if slightly dramatic) making the wierdest noise I have ever heard emminate from her 40 lb body. It was definately a distress signal. But it was confused. It had damp sand clinging to its eyelashes which were glued with stinging salt water. It's face showed visible sand rash. It was blindly flapping arms up and down and in an octave that translated anger, fear and mistrust yelling MOOOOOOM! Half a bottled water later--Girl meet Ocean. Ocean meet Girl... shake hands..play nice... very good.

Now back to me. I waded out to my hips. The water temp was acceptable. Refreshingly chilly. The foaming surf was white and rich, nothing like this in South Haven. I needed to get out by the boys on the Boogie Boards. I had my eye on the Spiderman decorated board and I was gonna be surfer girl! Show those kids how the geezers play! Yee Ha!

WHAT THE %$#@! Sweetholymotherofgod I think A Shark just swam between my legs. Or a Moray Eel. What was that? "Self" I said to myself--"quit screaming like a girl. Suck it up. It is the ocean! Of course there are living things in it. Lisa just showed you the seaweed. Go! swim... jump laugh..." SonofanAMITYVILLE EXIT RAMP!! What was that?? KEYRIST. Quickly, I
headed back to Paulie. A smart man dipped from head to toe in sunblock 45-- bemusedly watching from the safety of a surf chair. His toes nonchalantly kicking the ocean's lip as it creamily curled onto the sand. His eyes glued to his offspring. "Hey Paul? Are there a lot of big fish around here? I mean isn't it pretty busy with people and stuff? What do you suppose swam over my foot? He calmly and in Scienceguy/teacher voice recites a list of critters and seaweed species. Okay. I head back in.
I get about ankle deep and suddenly I visualize the scene in HBP where Harry looks into the horcrux moat and sees the rotted zombie hands reaching up to him. Something has grabbed onto the back of my calf muscle is gonna eat me. OUT! OUT! NOW! OUT! I can not identify "it" whatever it was and it sure as Hades isn't a bloody piece of fun to pop bubblewrap seaweed. I am pretty sure it is an octopus from a Jules Verne novel. Back to the Sand. Sand and Safe both start with "s". I like the symmetry.

Oh! look the cutegirlchild is playing with washed up jellyfish what a cute picture! They look like clear hamburger patties. Very cool...nothing like that in Michigan. Better get the camera. Whoa... those little suckers truly litter the beach. Each new wave crashes and recoils leaving behind one or two of the gleaming ice like discs. Those are really interesting. They must really get flipped around alot--they are so..harmless. Nina shares a story about how everyday something different washes ashore. One previous trip her day was ruined by several Brazillion tiny clams. They filled the beach with their sharp little bodies denying humans sure footing or a comfy seat.

Back into the water. This time I get to my knees. The waves are seductively insistant. The oceans want me to play. Tugging at me to go deeper, like a Jr High cheerleader on a date with the Varsity quarterback. Flirting with the power. I watch the boys on the boogie boards. I am envious-- that really looks like fun, and knee proof. I feel really connected to the earth. The sky is so blue. This is amazing. I have an incredible urge to dive straight into a wave and feel it all wash over me.

Suddenly, I see the Dead Marshes. Gollum and Aragorn tell me not to look down but I do and there are a hundred dead soldiers. All vacantly staring at me with their pale blue eyes. Their decomposed flesh and algae hair. AHHHH!!! Something just touched my butt! OUT! OUT! OUT!

Panting on the shore, terrified... I stand between my darlinghusband and one of my most trusted girlfriends. They laugh. They have tears running down their cheeks. Great. Newpal Nancy says come on... I'll go with you. We try. Not even with a grown up holding my hand I can't do it. There are ghosts of jellyfish swarming around my ankles trying to crawl up my legs. Now all my peeps are aware that Day can't do the jellyfish. It is sad. I join Izzy and lil Petey and Philly to make a huge sandcastle. It is at least four feet by four feet. We use the clear jellycorpses to make windows and striped watchtowers. It is a good day despite my obsessive fear of the inferi tentacles.

Wednesday night at Quilting..Nancy reported the next day was calm as napping toddler-- no strange creatures. Just beach. sigh.

back in the saddle

I have so much to write about. I haven't had this many ideas in about a million years. I think the NYC stories will have to leak out slowly, like molasses, thick and rich and slowly. needless to say a week with Lisa takes more than a paragraph to adequately communicate her value. I feel as though I should inform my "constant readers" that there have been several renewed bat sightings, the sausage is all gone (finally! we got sidetracked and ordered Mexican). The tomatoes ripened beautifully AND The dog did NOT run away the entire time we were gone and today (not Thursday as originally planned) has been a day of much exhausted depression. I should be happy. I will be *west* soon and in Nov. I am going to Memphis with Gretchen. yet the departure of Timmy to Yale and Tinn to Minneapolis just leave sme feeling hollow,

Bonne Anniversaire Bree!

Three years ago today Matty and I drove down to Toledo to fetch home a replacement dawg for Emery--RIP. The fam had met the prettiest little JRT at an Ohio Burger King the week before and decided that we wanted to adopt this sweet little bitch from Planned Pethood.org She would be responsible for getting Jarvis (our wire hair JRT) out of the funk he had settled into since his German Shepard Roommate had gone on to the big sleep.

We should have realized that this dog was gonna be a problem from the very beginnning. First of all, we got horribly lost by the Toledo Zoo turnpike. Secondly she whined all the way home (and hasn't really ever stopped since that 45 minute trip) and third... well I will never adopt an adult dog again. The ladies told us we were her third home. JRT's are notorious high energy dogs, that was okay-- we were a high energy house. Issue after issue arouse with "Bree"; she came named that way--it worked for us as we are all huge LoTR fans. She would NOT stay in the yard. We tried a cable hooked into in the ground. The kind that was one of those corkscrew things? We already had it from Emery--it was his "to go" tie out--kept a 150lb shepard in line should work for her little 18 lb ass right? NOT. She dug it out and jumped the fence. Petey installed an invisible fence. I trained her, very carefully showing her the flags and following the advice on the video. It took her less than a day to figure out all she had to do was leap through .9 seconds of zap and she was free. That was a huge waste. She learned how to open the screendoors. She terrified the cats into banishment (They had previously gotten along fine with both Jarvis and Emery). She got picked up by the cops twice. She has a huge prey drive. She has been returned by neighbors so many times I really can't count. She has gone to marching band practice with Matt. She went to football and wrestling practice just for fun-- I guess. She just recently went for a swim at the pool by herself. She goes through pencil thick chewies like my Dad goes through Winstons. Bull tendons last a day. Goat hooves seem to be a bit longer lasting. Jolly balls last about a month till they start to look white trashy and need to be replaced. She needs to be walked at least a mile (if not 3) per day or she chews on herself! Can you say anxiety issues? This dog has more needs than a newborn human.

Planned Pethood wanted me to write an article about our "success". I didn't return her in the 90 day trial period. I laughed out loud. If I had written an article they prly would go under! No one wants to hear about this insane dog. I ended up starting an email conversation/therapy with her previous "foster" mom Judy. Who ...as time went on... confessed several things including that they knew she was an escape artist--from TEXAS! Every couple of weeks I would shoot Judy an email saying Yay! No escapes. Then Bree would escape. Finally, that relationship dissolved. She suggested Rescue Remedy. Well that didn't work.
Bree is terrified of thunderstorms. She can jump at least six feet straight up. She has gotten skunked twice. She can climb trees. She digs like a demon. She wants desperately to kill small fuzzy things. She is so fast. She can clear four blocks in 12 seconds. I know I have timed her. However, we can't play with other doggies at coursing or agility games because she picks fights and won't come back when she is called. I did discover that she is perfectly trained in obedience....IF YOU HAVE STEAK OR CHEESE! She *chooses* to behave-- when she feels like it. Three years. Anybody got a horsefarm that needs a rat dog? She is free.

Pennsic

The most amazing thing is happening outside of Butler PA right now. Sadly, I am not there. It is the middle of Week One. Land grab is over--the tent is up. Now is the calm before the storm. The moment of zen when you wake up and see that you are in another world.At night the artifical moon shines over Northshield's camp-- up on the Serengheti where the swallows dip in and out of the grass. You begin to praise the flushies. You have identified your favorite food vendor. The marshals aren't on the hill yet so you contemplate what hunting tips would do to a tractor trailer's tires. You see a piece of garb that could inspire a whole new persona. All we can do is plan for next year.

Status quo wins big!

http://electionresults.ewashtenaw.org/aug2006/canvassreport206.html

Sat with Team Pierce last night.
It was odd. At 7:55pm it was an echo filled pub with yard signs scattered about. There was a T-shirt on the bartender which indicated to me that she had canvassed for Pierce. Previously my experience with closing polls has been limited to either counting ballots and witnessing envelopes getting packed like Phil Hartman was watching; OR-- I watched polls close ensconced on my couch observing CNN pounce on every percentage point. Kind of a sick Risk (tm) game as whole states swing one way or t'other in the Red vs Blue Patriot Games. Just 45 minutes after we arrived the place was packed with Pierce supporters. Who alternated between positive and upbeat to resigned and sad. Thank the goddess there was plenty of Pear cider. I really wanted a cigarette. It was that nervewracking. I was stunned to see that smokes in the vending machine are $8.50. The last time I bought smokes at a bar I was pissy because they were $2.75!
In vivid contrast to my sofa or Estabrook's cafeteria-- last night we waited. We waited for Piercepeeps at the polling sites to phone in the results. Every few minutes Pierce would smile nervously, excusing himself from the current thread of conversation. He would open his phone and turn away to scribble numbers on a bit of paper. Confer with his generals. No colorful pie charts. No glossy graphics. Then--anxiously-- we would all try to read his face from across the room. He was so calm and dignified. He announced his loss and pointed out...we ran a clean campaign.

kid torture

Had fun showing Ypsi off to Gwenyth and Ian yesterday. Arianna and Melisant were very patient as we waited at the Bomber and then toddled up and down W. Cross in Depot Town. We blew off the antiques and headed right for the sugar. Like anybody had room for candy after breakfast! We spent some time in Gordon's 5&10 store. My chilldwens refer to it as the pennycandy store because--well, that is what it is! One can go in and get a little bucket and then fill it with penny candy (Most of which Zoli can't have because of his braces but that doesn't seem to slow him down!). Ian was funny when he exclaimed.."They have buckets!" what was even more entertaining was the "lost child". A mom came in with two boys roughly 6 and 4. Why on earth you would bring a child in that store without letting them get SOMETHING?? I have no idea. It just seems cruel. She must have been on her "very busy" mission becasue she not only ignored the poor rugrats while she shopped (one of them seemed desperate to crawl *into* the ice cream chest) but she was ready to zoom back out after whatever she was searching for did not appear in three minutes. While she was searching for the mission statement one of her boys thought my backside was her backside and sort of followed me. Then I gently did the..No hunny--she's over there thing; and giggled with G about picking up extra kids. The accessory offspring did not really comprehend the whole multiple Moms thing and sent out the international child distress signal...plaintative bleating at regularly timed intervals....Mom? pause... mom? pause... mom? pause... mom?... mom Finally Harriedmom does the exasperated harumphing and herds the sugarless boys out of the store. She moved them out despite the constant Mom Mom Mom call and the elder child's clinging bodily to the ice cream chest.."PLLLEEEEASSSSE?? Just ONE? They're only fifty centssss." It was alternately hilarious, painful and sad. Poor kids.

liquid stone

My world got rocked a little further left last night. Watched a documentary titled Andy Goldsworthy's River & Tides. This guy is talking right to me. I am completely fascinated. So many parallels in composition despite the differences in media. Last night we were sure that Goldsworthy was the guy responsible for the fun Seussian sculptures we saw on the U of M diag back a couple three years but upon reflection, I am thinking that artist was Patrick Dougherty. Also--This morning I discover the Goldsworthy exhibit at Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids, Michigan is gonna be a roadtrip ASAP. Watching Goldsworthy's process...anticipating how time would affecting the installations. He embodied zen. I understand his words when he articulates that without the act of creation he feels hollow and rootless. I was amazed. I was even more taken with the product. His "work". His hands are so abused--the blackened and bruised nail beds--the blisters and scrapes. I admire anybody who can use a thorn or a sledge hammer and create such wondrous things that you gasp inspite of yourself. I need to see this stuff 3D. I want to run to Borders and get all his books. It is so stunningly beautiful and...temporal. Thankfully a photographic record exists. I am not normally a fan of modern art--but I am a deconstructionist and this man blends so many meanings. He is the Derrida of water.

The alpha & omega of sausage

Hungarian Dinner Night-Midterm Exam
Thursday nights have turned into a thing of great happiness. All summer (mostly--one night we went to the pool) Rollo and Sigrid (mka Matt & Carol) have been hooking Izzy and I up with a baby fix and in return I coach Carol on Hungarian cooking. She is on a mission to find her Dad's cuisine. He is the last of his generation and doesn't cook. She wants Zander to know about paprika. I understand. We cook traditional Hungarian food, study Hungarian cookbooks, drink and eat. Then we hang out, knitting, talking about writing, watching movies or Who wants to be a Super Hero? till Rollo and Pete remember they have to get up in the morning.
All the pre reqs have been covered...Chicken paprikas, stuffed peppers (the German vs Hungarian Pepper War deserves it's own story) sour cream, cabbage, noodles, poppy seeds & pickles. We have gotten to the end of my repertoire of food I can cook "with my eyes closed" and have moved into uncharted waters. (Saving the kifli party for Fall.)
Petey and I took Hauviette and Heloise's sausage making class at the Cook's Symposium last year and got the mechanics down. I finally got Kitchen Aid to ship me JUST the stuffing tool and last night we got to work.
THE MISSION: Peter's family sadly, is down a patriarch--and because sausage making is apparently a guy thing. Nobody bothered to write down Great Uncle Steve Boros' recipe for kolbasz. This would be okay if they hadn't been parsing it out like crack for the last 20 years. Now the Church Ladies up in Flint have their recipe. But they won't share (it is a fundraiser) and anyway... it isn't quite right. Just not as much punch as Uncle Steve's. I think our most enlightening moment last night was when we stopped thinking like foodie snots and start thinking like old men. Ingredient issues surfaced almost immediately. First example: The coarse cracked pepper needed to be GROUND FINE--like 1960's table pepper. Secondly, the Penzey's half sharp Paprika was way too powerful. Pete scrunching up his nose and saying. "That's wierd." was not what I wanted to hear on Test #2. The Szeged brand was closer. Though I have to confess--Pete's mom insisted it should be SWEET paprika which I stubbornly avoided. Still tweaking that factor.
It took us three test runs to realize the stealth allspice (which was decided upon after studying about a Brazillion online recipes) needed a spoonful of sugar. The sugar was miraculous. We got juicy... and it evened out the blend. Then on Test 3b we had a parika accident and while it was yummy--it wasn't Uncle Steve Brand. Test 4 was closer still and as test batch five lay sizzling in the pan we called Tarrach. I could tell by the smell as it cooked that we had it. SUCCESS!! Gleeful high fives around the kitchen. Like some giddy 12 step graduates...we are no longer dependent on the sausage pushers in Flint. We are THE SOURCE! We can produce our own!
The remnants of the various batches have all been merged into one big sausage so we could practise with the casings and the machine. It will be appetizers next week. Stay tuned for the final draft of our Kolbasz Recreation Adventure when we prepare Batch 5 Recipe (cooked properly-- not fried in a pan) in prep for the upcoming Day of Sausage Making (the DSM) for Punkin Day '06.

netflix rocks

Wow. I think I have to adjust my top ten movie list to include a new flick. Petey and I watched~ The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada~ last night. Guillermo Arriaga is the writer. Brilliant. I love his style. That film noire/black comedy flavor is what I try to emulate in my short stories. Tommy Lee Jones is stunningly believeable as this Cowboy Code of Honor rebel knight. I love the waitress Rachel. How do you spell the low throaty purr/growl noise I make when I think somebody is hot? I have also decided to adopt the nickname "Cincinnati" for any dippy thoughtless blonde. I think it is funny.

Foodiegirl

Yesterday was a happy food day in my world. A.) The NEW Ypsilanti Farmer's Market had some ABFAB nummies. The local produce is starting to get harvested and I got enough beautiful produce for the rest of the week for less than $20 (Family of five omnivores). I met Farmer Sam who is my new hero. He is just the sweetest guy. Those peaches (there are only two left) smell so marvelous. They reminded me when I was kid-- my dad's friend, Benny, stayed at an apartment that had a huge peach tree that grew right next to the house. His apartment was on the second floor and my sister and I would stand on his balcony and easily pluck HOT sun warmed juicey juicey peaches. Two little pigtailed girls in swimmy suits with peach juice running down their chins. One of the better things about living in Michigan is the produce. I get a chuckle out of visiting my friends on the other side of THE LAKE and seeing "Michigan Apples" touted as something special. The blueberries from South Haven will always have a special place in my heart. There is a fond memory. Taking Bear and his pre-school buddies to the beach and buying blueberries along the way. Sunblock, white sand and blueberries for lunch.
There are pics here

homepage.mac.com/wgouine1/PhotoAlbum139.html

B.) While you are there take peek at the ridiculous amazing chocolate ice cream Izzy & I made in the Qweeze. Wow. The right tools and good ingredients. yummmmmmy.