3D Bear Butt

Nope it's not an a archery butt. The kidlets and I escaped the massive study session that Pete decreed this afternoon. We went to Showcase and watched the Imax version of Open Season. $31 and 99 minutes later we were well entertained. The animation was very good (It was like I could touch the bear's fur, especially when he stuck his big butt in *my* lap but the 3D glasses were a thing.

First of all, the ticket seller made a big scary deal out of which seat we got. Now considering that we were meeting Brooke and the girls I was like okay here's the thing, the girlies need to sit together and they aren't here yet, oh look there they are at the end of the line. I personally think he just wanted to play with his cool software.This is not the first time I have encountered this bizarre behavior in ticket sellers. They think they have some power, some authority. Some small penis thing I guess.

We all got tickets and hustled into the show missed all the trailers (BOOO! my fave part, I always pray for a Harry Potter Trailer or at least today we were hoping for Eragon peeks but nada...) and the place was half empty so we sat where we wanted. Please dear reader, take my advice sit in the very middle of the theatre. If you move your head just a little..your eyes have to totally refocus. I feel for the audience members on the edge of the screen. Very disconcerting, not as bad as my sunburned salmon croquettes and Blair Witch Experience, but sea sick-y just the same.

Eh, the kids had fun and Brooke and I made a date for Black Dahlia on Tuesday! Now there's a flick I want to see!

Is It November yet??

My lovely Rita sent me a tasty link about the authorship question. An argument very near my heart. I have been a member of the Edward de Vere Society at U of M for quite some time. They always have spiff conferences and delish little scholarly teas, but oh baby the RSC is coming...and I can't wait!

WMS Success Monsters

Well, what a pleasant surprise! The West Middle School Open House was not perfect. There were some timing issues, of course moving that many people from space to space is gonna get wacky. I often felt like a salmon swimming upstream, but on the whole I was quite pleased with the cheerful, bright atmosphere. Zoli positively bounced as we went from Homeroom to STARR to choir, we never did make it to gym where he is playing FOOTBALL of all things. To anybody who wants to argue American football with me just read Elwood Reid's expose on Bo Schmubutter's reign in Ann Arbor.I hate the culture that surrounds American football. What a freakin waste.

But back to how happy Zoli is at school this year. It is exciting to see him so comfortable and at ease. And reading like a demon. LOVE IT!

Insanity dawg

Dogs are creatures of habit. Jack Russell Terrorists are to quote my vet.."high energy", so if one combines the concept of high energy with ingrained habits you can begin to imagine my boob piercing morning. Zoli gets himself off to school about 7:15 am. However, Isabel doesn't need to leave for another hour and while she is capable of walking herself to school, it will get darker and colder and it is an fine excuse for me to get out of the flannel pants I slept in and move my sorry ass away from the 'puter. Every morning I walk her to school both little pupstars in tow. It is only about five blocks to school,but after the bell rings and I stand around shooting the shit with other parents; I walk the dogs through the cross country path and the 'hood till we hit 3 miles.

This morning we just were not moving fast enough for Bree (aka Stoopid dawg). Girlfriend need to WALK. She whined and begged and did everything but get my keys. This morning we got Isabel's backpack together and pulled on jackets and (insert dramatic pause) I touched the leash.

WAIT! Stop! I have to share. When we were out in South Dakota our favorite neighbor Gareth was house/dog sitting and apparently Bree decided to walk herself. Prior to this trip we had a very nice system to control the multitude of leashes. It was an antique iron coat hook. It was about four inches long and *was* solidly screwed into the stud. In a fit of lonely psychodog behavior she pulled on the dangling leashes so hard that she actually pulled the hook out of the wall.

Okay ,back to the blog entry at hand...

This morning Izzy and I are getting shoes tied and lunches packed up (Bree will gauge what is gonna happen by what clothes I put on. You should see her when Pete gets his running shoes!) I put a poop bag in my pocket and picked up the leather lead. That dog jumped so high that her back feet landed on top of my chest and she went over my head! Okay I am only five feet tall but still how anybody could be so happy at the mere suggestion that the walk was going to start is a little baffling. I mean she jumped over me! I don't get that excited about ANYTHING! I mean somebody do the math! If she is only 14 inches high at the shoulder, and I am five feet tall...wouldn't that be like me jumping onto the porch roof because I am happy???
The dog is nuts.

ADD or OC??

I can't concentrate on a bloody thing today. I can't write html, I can't write about Henry. I can't write about Snapey-poo. I did one load of laundry and ate a chocolate croissant from Zingerman's. Feh and Pah. I am spinning on my little hamster wheel. So busy not doing a damn thing. Yesterday I got the abstract, summary and author bio together for submission to this Spring's The Phoenix Rises Conference in New Orleans. I should just send it off, but I need to let it rest before I re-read it. I watched a pretty boring movie directed by Alan Rickman, called The Winter Guest. One good sex scene. I am really quite bored with Emma Thompson. Maybe I should get a tattoo.

Kagemusha

Akira Kurosawa is a god. Okay, just accept that. His films are like a Gabriel Garcia Marquez short story, except that they are Japanese...yeah anyway... last night we completed the canon. Three hours of magic realism and medieval Japanese warlords, hidden identities and happy grandbabies. The Shadow Warrior moved a tad slowly, but I think that my impatience has more to do with American culture than inadequate film making. The costumes were superb and the cinematography was absolutely to die for. The dream sequence was ethereal. God...I loved it. When the dead warload was all embalmed in his mummy pot..coool! He looked like he was shellacked, gonna have to talk to Riato about that idea.

Let's Go Red Wings!

Ah-- the sweet comfort of another hockey season. Hockey is a thing for me. I love to skate. I could skate backwards by the time I was four.

My family had about 10 acres of land that was used in various ways. It was originally a berry farm before my grandfather purchased the land. My grandfather always had a huge vegetable garden. We had large chunks of open woods and apple trees between the four houses (my grandparents gifted each child a parcel as they started their families). The three berry patches that had become so entangled and overgrown that the canes formed little huts. All of this was linked by "two track" paths that crossed the creek and ended up at the cow pond. A spring fed pond that seemed bottomless when I was seven, but was probably about 20 feet deep at the far end. Regardless it was stocked with sunfish and turtles and we swam in the summer and skated in the winter. Grandpa would be sure it was safe for us to skate on by driving his tractor out on it. Pick up hockey games were played with brooms and sticks and boxes for goals. By combining my two sisters, five cousins and the two neighbor boys we always had plenty of people to field a scrimmage.

By the time I reached adulthood the Wings were a bit of an embarrassment, but I kept an eye on the scores and that cute Stevie Y. Then when I started hanging out with Pete and Eric, well surprise! Eric was just as big a fan and watching the games became a thing we did. If we weren't in the same room we would call each other at significant moments (good fights, bad calls, sweet shots) that had we been together would have gotten a high five.

So life goes forward and Eric doesn't watch so much anymore, I guess... and Petey has morphed from a med student saying things like"Will you turn that shit down? I am *trying* to study" to a stats quoting, trash talking fool. It is pre season right now and last night the Wings beat the Panthers, Draper tried to pick a fight and Mickey Redmond, my all time fave player was doing color.

It was nice to sit on my couch, feet tucked under Pete's thigh, eating popcorn and hearing the sweet scrape of 190 lbs of manmeat hockey stop. God I love that noise.

Further adventures in Sausage making

This afternoon we drove to Penzeys to stock up on Foxpoint and Galena Street (two awesome spice blends that are delish--see link at left!) While we were there I sniffed Smoked Spanish Paprika---ooh baby. Yum-o-rama! Of course considering our paprika fetish we pounced on it. On the 40 minute drive home DH and I decided that today would be a lovely day to try switching out some factors in the Kolbasz recipe. There is definitely beef. Jeff Smith said so. I guessed it and now we confirmed.

Today we went half pork shoulder and half ground beef-- sirloin. The mouth feel was sooo much better. But I really have to stop thinking high end ingredients and get my head wrapped around the peasant food thing. So, today we also used powdered garlic instead of fresh and that seemed right. I am also sure that ground chuck is the answer, the sirloin was too dry. Uncle Steve's kolbasz has about an inch of orange/paprika tinted fat rendered into the pan. This batch was too dry. So, thumbs up on the smoked Spanish Paprika ( BUT not for kolbasz--too mellow-- it was uber tasty just not for HUNGARIAN snausage) and the garlic and the beef. I think I have a recipe that will impress the mom-in-law. Must do another run before Punkin Day.

PS--That garnish is my last tomato. I fried all the green ones up yesterday. Summer is over.

Fakin Bacon

Oh fearless reader, The lessons we learn when we over generalize. Today's topic? MEAT (and it's replacement). In my experience the veggie "sausage crumbles" are awesome in spaghetti sauce. Nobody can tell the diff, they are too busy picking out the shrooms to consider that the meat might be fake. The veggie breakfast patties merge into egg& cheese biscuts NO PROBLEM. But lordy, what did I do? In an effort to cut out some fat I purchased Morning Star Farms "veggie" bacon strips. Really have you ever seen anything so disgusting? They looked like the Laffy Taffy candy from the '70's.
Okay the first ingredient is egg whites, which isn't a problem for me or the fam, but a vegan person might be cranky, but then why would a vegan person want to eat fake bacon? The whole question becomes far too puzzling rather quickly.Honestly they look so foul. But in the spirit of science we decide to cook them up and taste them. They smelled like bacon, but ICK! They tasted like fortune cookies. Nasty and the texture was like...styrofoam. Since when does bacon have crenellations? NASTY.

And ya know what is really bad?? I bought two boxes. I would feed it to the dogs but that would be cruel. Egg whites, soybean oil and proppylene glycol--NOT food.

Searching for a new city

In the pipe dream that is my fantasy, we shall find a city meeting the following requirements.

1. Deciduous trees and snow in winter.
2. A Whole Foods or similarly stocked grocery.
3. A Penzey's within an hour.
4. Decent Farmer's market
5. Near a major hub city (local 4-year university a plus)
6. Large body of water (river, lake etc)
7. good schools (I really won't home school them no matter how much I bitch)
8. infrastructure that allows for adequate police & fire
9. less than two empty storefronts in the downtown
10. located in a "blue" state to supplement my "green" tendencies

PS
I would like a wind farm to generate the power, as long as I am dreaming.

Solstice Goal

Tomorrow is the Autumn Equinox-- meaning summer is officially over – and there’s a new moon too. AND I met my goal! On Wednesday about 2:20 in the afternoon I hit "save" and glanced down at the word/page count tab--it said 201! I have written 44003 words!
My ultimate goal is to produce 500 pages of narrative fiction based on the time span from King Henry the V's victorious siege of Harfleur, his march to Calais, the subsequent Battle of Agincourt, the Treaty of Troyes, his marriage to Catherine, his death, the birth of H6 and Miranda's voyage to Persia. The manuscript is titled Fealty.

If I started doing research in '04 (an ongoing project at best) and started seriously writing at the end of August '05. I maybe done before Zoli is outta high school! I hereby pronounce my next goal of 100 pages before Winter Solstice. Rah Me!!

Period Pavillions Persevere

Pete asked me last night (he has never really been hip to the whole camping thing) if I was "done" camping. Like it was an experiment or a new hobby.
For those of you who haven't heard I had a real live nervous breakdown Saturday night. (So much for being at least half sane eh, Ia?) Normally I am kinda twitchy during bad weather anyway-- but Friday night was a spectacularly terrifying electrical rain storm. We survived. I created the new mantra--"Tarrach's tents don't fall down".
Saturday dawned windy, but clear and bright. Things are MUCH less scarier in the daylight. I was lulled into calm, court went off without a hitch. I was fascinated by the fireworks. (and cow) We all sort of ignored the rising wind. Look at the pictures, gowns flapping ALL day. People kept making the comments about the flags "snapping" it was kinda cool in a no access to the weather channel kinda way. Pete consulted the oracle on his tiny phone; and the X that marked Vermillion had at least two pixels to either side of the cloud mass. There were actually two masses-- but we kinda had a channel of no clouds around us. The stars were brilliant. We were on top of a hill and could see for MILES, so it seemed that all was well. As usual many people came to party in the common area. Fina and I retreated back into the tents and I was contemplating either falling asleep to the sounds of my friends laughter or actually getting up and having a drink because that was Zig's voice and I barely know this (glistening) guy. Then all freaking hell broke loose--one pin sheared off Jurgen and Ia's tent pole.

*Where Isabel was sleeping.*

The wind had shifted and caught the fly like a sail. The constant erratic wind pressure just fatigued the metal so much...well...Because Jurgen's tent had to come down that meant the shade fly had to come down. Half of me remembers seeing strongfolk in motion. Isabel was whisked to our bed in T&F's tent, all of their gear was dispersed. Men fighting to bring these giant sails down without losing the cross beam.
My brain stopped.
I was shaking like a Chihuahua.
I clung to the center pole of Fina's tent just so I could stand up.

Paula tried to move my quaking ass out of the way and I totally lost it. I couldn't leave Isabel. I couldn't let go of the pole. I could not function. Poor Agnar got assigned to pat me and he told me very funny stories about something. But the wind wasn't blowing him off his feet to so I clung to him instead of the tent pole. Gwyneth tried to poke me into Paula's tent but I wasn't going anywhere w/out Iz, but I couldn't make my feet move anyway. Finally all the canvas was down and Petey got the truck for me to sit in. Apparently I still looked like an escaped patient from Bedlam because I was sent to the B&B and got to be inside a real building. Thank you G.

and in response to Pete's question...No. I am not "done" camping. But, maybe ..not on a hilltop... in a tornado.

TEAM RED or Premier League VS NHL

There could be a thing this season. Manny U and my Wings have both lost one already. sigh.

Where to start?

Let's move past the TV film crew. (Yes, Tarrach & Fina and the boys will be profiled on a Learning Channel program this spring. We all had to sign waivers because they filmed practically everything.)

We should pause to consider "the cow"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SigS3JvgrF0

Let us segue beyond the gut wrenching weather. The 12 hours of driving (one way..got to do it again on the way home!) and get right down to it. Pete makes the best coffee in the world!

Gwyneth and Sig are the new king and queen of Northshield. sniff. I am so proud. I hardly saw Gev & Greta. I really missed not seeing Ceri & Tariq also Maddy and Ravenna, but-- to see so many people that I miss so much. Who would have thought so much happy can be in the middle of a cornfield in the appendix of South Dakota? I am still amazed, at every event, how heart burstingly happy I am to be with the people of Northshield. Despite the above average insanity of the past weekend, I would so totally do it all again. When I hear the songs of Northshield being sung or someone call out "DAY!" as they run across a field to swoop me up and spin me around, smiles and kisses and hugs of welcome and warm greeting. It is a very good thing.

On the road again

Odd isn't it...Didn't we do this last month? My friends are too far apart. Lisa in NY, my girls in Northshield, Timmy's at Yale and Gretch is *only* two hours away!! feh.

As soon as Z gets home from school today (2:45ish) we hit the road. Izzy gets to escape the halls of learning an hour early. Gonna drive till bedtime. Crash someplace with a pool and then drive some more. We should be on site between lunch and dinner Friday.

There will be horses, archery and a pig roast! Tons of friends that I haven't seen for months. (YAY!) I should have tons of pics and great stories come next week.

Good to go!

I am actually sick of the smell of baking. From making the apple filling on Monday to boxing up the last muffins 20 minutes ago. Done! Now I have to find Zoli's garb. I can't believe we are leaving tomorrow! I am so geeked. Must pack. Must download new videos for kids to watch on ipod in truck. (twelve hours in the truck..icky. Gosh I wish my friends lived closer, or wait I could MOVE to my friends. I think I would like to live in Wisconsin. In the country. By a river or a lake.

South Dakota sucks

Just because I have to go there to see my girl get her new hat DOES NOT mean I am gonna spend any more money (not supporting that state government nope... noway) than I absolutely have to and I can offer this as an antidote!

Bakery

Maybe instead of a children's bookstore I should open a bakery? Thus far, today, "we" have made 36 pumpkin scones with ginger cinnamon glaze, 36 maple apple tarts and the dough for 3 doz tollhouse cookies (w & w/out nutz). I know tollhouse cookies aren't period (Bogdon? are they? No--the chocolate isn't) Tomorrow we bake the cookies and create choc. cherry muffins though I am having a hell of a time finding Jumbo muffin papers. It is starting to piss me off.

The scones were remarkably easy--lo-fat sucks though I shoulda made them with cream instead of skim--but they are nicely punkiny and the glaze is awesome. I made a simple syrup from fresh ginger and while it smelled abfab I was displeased with the color--an odd off greeny yellow..not very pretty. So I pumped it up with cinnamon. PERFECT. Then the stoopid bag thing.Whenever Alton snips the corner off from the ziplock baggie he gets very nice results. I don't! feh. One of these days I need to buy a squirt bottle.

feeding the royals

Today we bake. Lots of baking. Yesterday we shopped. It appears I have taken on some pronoun problems. I have been ALOOONE with too much sugar. This weekend is the cruise for Vermillion, South Dakota. Nearly as popular a vacation destination as Minot, NORTH Dakota. I have a princess to get crowned.

http://www.northshield.org/events/calentry.php?ID=199

G is gonna be Queen! (Thank you Siggy) I don't know where I am sleeping or what I am wearing..but people will have tasty baked goods! Actually I think I will be in a tent, though whose tent I am not sure. So today's list of things to do, buy razors (I don't care if smooth legs aren't period I have tarantula legs and it's itchy. Buy more tupperware to transport said baked goods. Bake, 3 doz of each-- muffins, cookies, scones and tarts!!

Simone's chickens

Lori McClane is my pal. This is her story. Or the chickens story. I want my own chickens, and a goat and four horses. Guess I had better MOVE!

http://www.mlive.com/grpress/frontpage/pdfs/Re_Monday.pdf

Kerrytown Bookfest

Kid torture! The retribution for somethings will never be known until the kidlets reach adulthood. Thankfully, Matt seems to be functioning at 'above average' so I must have done something right. Thus, I feel justified in dragging the kids to what could be perceived as one of Dante's rings, at least for them! *I* was in heaven! The theme for the Antiquarian Book fair this year was Miniature Books. EEEP!!! Tiny little volumes, perfect in every way! Their itsy little bindings..the exquisite art on perfect pages. The epitome of what I find "cute". NOT kitty cats, NOT baby booties...just these magnificent little books. Randy, (Sir Ranthulfur for those of you constant readers who speak SCA) is of course now teaching at Hollanders, had a beautiful display of his work right outside their door. www.hollanders.com

But the bulk of the fair was outside. Including the kid's activity tent (check out my photo album link if you want) which coupled with the incredibly amazing grandma we borrowed allowed me a good hour to cruise around and drool. I think besides the Shakespeare sonnets and individual plays...oh there was a tiny herbology of the flowers he mentions. That is actually a whole subset of geekdom. The Shakespeare Garden people. Someday I will be one of them--perhaps post-Bree. Anyway the best miniature that I saw was Edgar A. Poe's poem 'The Raven'. The brown leather cover had a raven cut out with black endpaper underneath. $90! ouch

Pete did spend $20 on a little book that the text was a fold out map (woodcut! print) of Budapest. very cool.

I wasn't the only bibliophile entranced that afternoon. We kinda hooked up with Carol (fellow bookgeek) and her crew (thus getting to borrow Zander's grandma! THANK YOU!!!) Isabel and Carol's niece Tessa were instant chums. Izzy is in fact kinda in withdrawal. I am glad they had fun. Most of the pics at the homepage are of them!

The guys all headed to hear Jeff Mallet and Dave Coverly speak. www.comics.com. They both are Michigan comic artists and it was actually really cool to listen to them; because they kept drawing comparisons between narrative writing and comics telling a story that I found very encouraging. I only have like 8 more pages to hit my 200 page goal. I guess I should qut blogging and get to work!

Sleeves suck!

Saturday I spent the most time on EMU's campus I have spent in about 2 years.
Got there about 10:15--left at 6pm. I parked the bug in the parking lot behind Pray-Harrold (the very odd name of my old building which is right next to Quirk Theatre). That parking lot is still closer in appearance to a minefield than a smooth sheet of asphalt. I was going to attend a garb making workshop hosted by the talented (and lovely) Mistress Melisant otherwise known as Prof. Schuessler of the theatre dept.

http://www.faucet.net/costume/index.html

She helped me alter my fave blue silk gown and get the arms less tentlike.
I learned tons of stuff about industrial irons, fabric grain and sergers. Vincent learned you can make raspberry kool aid in the washer with burgundy rayon! *I* the most inept seamstress on the face of the planet...*I* can make armpits!!

Who woulda thought that to make the sleeves smaller we would have to add fabric? Not me man! I just did what she told me. We shortened the sleeves and deconstructed the removed cuffs in order to recycle that fabric into armpit crescents. It was a scary thing. Then we actually took in the sleeves. Remove flap, sew back together. FEH not as easy as it sounds. Too many pins. I totally wimped out trying to do the gussets on the machine and did them by hand. I did serge them afterwards because they seamed (get it?) like a good thing to practice on. The tiny little tuck on the body was nothing compared to the hour it took me to get the new cut edge line up with the old sleeve seam. (Four strikes before I got on base!) Christ this dress has TWO sleeves?? Whose brilliant idea was it to have two sleeves?? Repeat process.

Dude-- that is hard. Why won't the fabric just fall into place like when Melisant touches it? Can she perform wandless magic? I think so. Ariannatheangel finally appeared, right when I was about to cry--the stoopid sleeves didn't match. Arianna very helpfully patted and held the fabric in place while I pinned the foldy round crazy ass tube shaped shit.

Melisant gave it the thumbs up and I moved on. The dress now had nicely slender sleeves; but it also had huge "ventiliation" gaps under the arms. Oh. I also got to use a spiffy little pizza cutter with yellow tracing paper that makes cutting marks on the fabric. That was fun. I wanted to run little yellow cut marks everywhere but this crowd didn't appear to be into shenanigans. I obediently traced the armpit moons with the fun tool and then cut out the armpit moons. I bravely pinned them in unsupervised. She was very busy helping the new student group put their zippers in. She is soooo patient and calm.

The armpits looked right. But there were sooo many pins! eep!! Finally, I got brave (?) and decided to sew them in by hand, despite not having gotten Melisant's approval on this step. It worked!!

PROJECT #2 or Why this blog was created....

The black linenbomb. First of all lots of group discussion revolved around shrinkage. I figure I'd better wash the fabric before moving any further on this mess and during a pause in my personal Melisant time--I chucked the whole thing into the washer--RESULT---CRAZY LINT! AHHH!!! black pubic hair wads of fluff coated the inside of the machine. Cleaned up that insanity. Dried it on "lo" for about an hour and it was still dampish. Still pounds of jet black lint everywhere. Yes, it did spin nicely....hmmmm. STAY FOCUSED.

Ironed it. FOREVER--still slightly dampish--claimed a cutting table. Glance at clock CRAP! is it 4:40. No wonder I am tired. I need my daily chai/after school snack break. Got up close and personal with the fabric grain, carefully pinned on two pattern pieces. Gregoire was very kind in the reaching across the table to nail the grain in place maneuver that short chicks can't quite reach.

Folded it into bundles and brought it home. I don't think this cote will be ready for coronation. Nope. Gonna wear the red and green. Draco invictus! (mebbe)

Staring at the Mailbox

Now that I have chased all the giant brown spiders from the mailbox, MAYBE my bitterfilms.com DVD will come? It was supposed to be here in August.

yeah, the spiders, I get back from walking the JRTs and we are happily stretching our calf muscles on the top step, you know that let your heels drop stretch that is so delicious--contemplating a huge glass of water and some sun salutations on the back deck-- when a scuttling in the top corner caught my eye. Holy Sweet Mother of Jesus! That is a big ass spider! The roof of my front porch has been infested with those creepy tunnel making spiders that have really thick webs in all four corners. I get one of Zoli's big sticks.

Why do boys do that? He has an extensive collection of long sticks tucked behind the boxwood hedge. They have a great play value as they double as light sabers, broadswords, fencing rapiers, whatever his little soul needs at that minute; at this minute...I needed a spider eradication device. I swiped the swathe of webbing from the mailbox. That was easy. There were no occupants and now the mail dude can bring my mail.

Then I poke at the back right corner. ACK--four of the nasty little boogers scurry around and two actually fight the stick. They grab on. They are so huge I expect the stick to snap. Their bodies are easily the size of a large golden raisin. EWWW--I smack the stick over the rail and they fall to the ground. Thump. thump. Then I bring the stick up to viewing range and SHIT! there is a huge one in attack mode. It is the size of a mouse and it is crawling down the stick at my arm. I whip the stick out into the grass. *SHUDDER* nasty eight legged crawly alien things. I remember that last night as we waved Rollo and Carol goodbye there was big spider on the porch. Just sitting there like he owned the place. We were all like..oh look! spiders eat mosquitos, good spider! feh! What fools we were. Shoulda stomped him! For it seems that like teenagers--one invited guest has turned into a frat party. I select another spider poker from Zoli's collection and poke at the other corners, dragging the long finger like tip all around the wooden roof and generally harassing every spider up there. I counted about 20 and several of them tried to gang up on me. Their fat little bodies and jointed fuzzy legs all hissy and tense. Several made audible thunks on the concrete porch and Bree of course ate several. I, cleverly recalling the tap dance days of my youth, kicked and scooted most of the uneaten arachnids off my porch.

Bree's recent frenzy with the bats and today's interesting encounter with the Canadian geese had her all hyped up and ready to kill. She hopped around the porch pouncing on the scurrying menace. Her ears were pricked forward in the same cute way she did when Pete tried to re-introduce the cats to the upstairs by putting the poor things in the travel crate in the middle of the room. *That* was a failed experiment. Poor kitty. (snicker)


Oh? The geese? yeah,ok-- as we came outta the woods behind Zoli's school we saw about 20 some Canadian geese all just standing there. I let Jarvis off leash and whispered "squirrel" which is, of course, his warcry. He crouched down (I am sure he imagines himself a mighty lion at this point) he crept to about 15 feet away from them when they finally realized they were being stalked. One flapped its wings, more of a stretch than anything threatening and they all honked and waddled around, kinda like musical geese. They didn't move so much as switch spots. Bree hearing the honks is now straining at the leash barking like the demon dog she is, pulling and lunging, she wants to get them! Jarvis is at about eight feet from the center of the flock, still in soldier under the barbed wire mode. Three of the larger birds (they are huge compared to Jarvis) start flapping and honking in earnest--this changes things a bit and Jarv tucks his tail and hustles back to me. He come around behind me and hides behind my ankles. Not exactly shaking but no longer the mighty hunter. I hook him back up and we leave the geese to their breakfast. Bree of course explaining that Jarvis and I are both cowardly fools an if we let HER off leash well there would be feathers a flyin.

So now that we are home and in a relatively small space (well compared to the geese/soccer field) the length of the leash is adequate to allow her some great fun chasing prey and JOY!! eating it. ick.

Purple lingerie

It should be noted that I am well aware that not all bras are created equally. I am also sure that Vickie's Secret plans for the underwires to start to decompose roughly six months after purchase. The planned half life of lace. I do love VS despite their propensity for disintegration but last night at dance class it became very clear that I need to go bra shopping. My favorite bra while fine for daily work (snort--walking dogs and typing...whoo... 'work') failed miserably in its task of keeping the girls under control. So, imagine if you will true believer, a roughly one year old 38C dark lavender (with tasteful lace applique) Second Skin tm undergarment absolutely just failing. Limp is not a word one should use to describe dance wear. If this was Mythbusters. We woulda been busted! (Get it boobs=busted ha ha) It is a sad fact that sometimes..well the elastic just can't take it. My pretty purple bra died. sniff. It was about as effective as Elmer Fudd's hunting expeditions.

The bra made it through yoga. At that point I was only cursing the fact that I had not worn a T-shirt that would not droop into my face while upside down. One of the things about yoga is a lot of conscious breathing--so every forward bend and every downward facing dog I had a sweaty shirt tickling my nose or worse my whole face would manage to get inside the neckline and I would be looking down my own top. Despite my best attempts it was impossible to stay focused. I couldn't help but remember a different yoga class I was in at EMU-- wherein my famed amethyst pendant went directly into my nostril during a handstand. That lovely instructor just calmly said "Let me get that." and gently plucked the offending gem from my nostril. I was pleased that I didn't lose the pose and could laugh upside down.

Okay I should be honest-- last night was massive costume malfunctions all the way around. I have a lot of yoga pants that stretch and have flared legs. I like them. I have like three pair of black, two are "petite" one is not...guess which ones I pulled outta the dresser--yes the ones that would fit Gretchen and Fina--those with the lengthy legs. I realize too late that the fabric is "puddling" under my heels and I am going to be tugging on them all night. Then about 3/4 of the way through drills I glance in the mirror and realize that my purple glitter dance belt is riding on my hips really nicely...FRAMING MY JELLY BELLY. Not *hiding* it like it was at the beginning of class but accenting it, in a most unflattering fashion. I have read where professional dancers recommend safety pins to keep things where they are supposed to be--now I understand.

little voices

Occasionally, like today, the oven will beep its little happy beep. Telling me to come and check the "Rustic Pear Tart." When I enter the kitchen the voice of our fearless leader is still (he started yammering when I was peeling the fruits) blathering on about how it is okay for Americans to hold military prisoners in order to protect ourselves. *huge despondent sigh*

Does anybody else mouth back? I mean, seriously-- I am yelling at my radio. As if it actually houses the body who is speaking. Now granted I usually am talking to the DJ on WEMU or the host of an NPR segment, but I am worried. Today my music and my news have been interrupted by "breaking news"--apparently he who cannot eat pretzels is reading from a script.

I find myself, raising my voice and making unseemly and snarky comments.

Am I alone in responding to the little voices? *crickets chirping*

Doesn't anyone else feel angry, duped or disappointed? I think in another life I was one of the "crazy people" that get escorted out of Press Conferences. How can all of those journalists and camera people (people I normally respect--quite a bit) just sit there and not shout back? SHUT UP! YOU ARE EMBARRASSING! BE Quiet! You do not speak for me! Go home and clear your brush. Leave my country alone. Honestly. Mebbe he was listening to the voices in HIS head.

Finally!! School's back in session!

Both kids off to school. CHECK
Dogs walked. CHECK
Sweaty sleepiness showered away. CHECK
Dishes washed. CHECK
Sink shined. CHECK
Washing machine humming. CHECK
Koffee Klatch clutched. CHECK

Groceries NOT CHECK (something special for Petey's b-day) Shopping can wait until writers block kicks in which prly won't happen *fingers crossed* as yesterday I got two pages of Crazy Charlie down. Despite the Wonderpets squealing in the living room. The source I am working with (A French historian named Anne Denieul-Cormier) gave me an idea that maybe King Charles VI of France was just trying to process the fact that his wife was a Machiavellian biotech before Machiavelle even thought about being heartless. So farewell constant reader--I am offline to clear the last 16 pages of my 200 pages by Solistice goal.

Sante!

Proud of Detroit!

The Hot Club of Detroit!! Wow. They should be The Hottie Club of Detroit. This was my kind of music, you should check out their myspace page or stream WEMU because my close personal friend Wendy Wright, who introduced them, (How many Wendy's in Ypsi like Jazz??--hmmm two of us!) plays this album all the time.

Look out Deeetroit--Hot food coming through--

Saturday: It was a surprising feeling to be so proud of Detroit this weekend. Often I can see only the sad results of the crushing economy but in the still warm glow of being all cleaned up for Stoopidbowl XL, the top layer looked great. I was stunned that I had no concept of how posh the inside of the Ren Cen is. I grew up in Michigan and had never been inside the big beast. It was delightful. The Rivercafe is just so fab! What an amazing view. The peepee mover was all shiny with big ads. Everybody was smiling. Even in the rain; people were cheerful and upbeat. Chris found an Irish pub called Foran's--we will def head there after hockey games. We drank several beers there. We met Chris & Gretch's pals Robin and her man Joe. We had drank several beers at Taj. We ate like kings first at Tom's Oyster Bar and then--so much rich food at Carl's buffet in the morning. I am pretty sure I trashed my 1500 calories per day within the first five bites!

Sunday: was cloudy but the music was clear. After seeing Thornetta Davis and the Sun Messangers we got a break between sets and zipped home to grab the kids. They loved it! When Jaco Pastorius Word of Mouth first started to play Isabel was crying cuz it was too loud. But she soon figured out she wasn't gonna die and was way into it --by Monday morning Izzy was ready to roll...what time are we leaving? This cat named Will Lee played a smoking bass with the Jaco Pastorius group and he was great fun to watch. Jumping around like a maniac and so sincerely having a great moment.

Monday: With seven stages--There are so many artists playing simultaneously or so close together that you can only catch half a set. Pete didn't make the Jazz lecture on Zappa at all because we were all in love with the Hot Club boys. They were playing so hard they broke two strings. The accordian player was French...droool. They also kept us from seeing the start of Mose Allison but we eventually got over to his stage (after buying the signed CD you see at the top of this entry) to hear the old classics you expect to hear from Mose.

It is a good feeling to spend so much time downtown and have it just be so wonderfully fun. People worked hard for this and we appreciate it.

Peace.

Wholefood VS Fakefood

Which would you choose?

Turtle Power

NY FLASHBACK--Visualize if you will true believer, four adults and seven kids doing the tourist thing in Chinatown. Granted only four of us were newbies, but we were a herd and as we wove through the thronging Juicy-bag vendors and the amazingly abundant produce stalls; I am sure we stuck out like total dorks. I personally was trying to remember what good pashmina shawls look like ($5?? who cares?) while I held the hands of my miniature fellow travelers. Suddenly, from the rear of the procession Lisa shouts in a suddenly thick Long Island accent. "BOYS! WAIT!" She had noticed a white enamel dish pan gleaming in the bright sunlight of the crowded sidewalk. The large pan was swarming with crazed turtle hatchlings. I had seen a similar set up at a previous vendor and guessed that they were groceries. What do I know? I am from Ypsilanti. Maybe turtlemeat is the yummy mix in steamed dumplings?! Regardless of the intention behind the sale-- we all freeze, about face and toddle back to Lisa and the handsome Asian guy who is selling her a handful of live turtles. While the older boys were definitely curious, Philly is about to explode with glee and surprise, Nina and Isabel are charmed to be sure but they are both in faux NY sophisticate mode and can't squeal *too* loudly. Our troop is now the proud possessor of a tiny plastic cage with three live red eared slider turtles.

We ate lunch at an amazing place called Green Bo. Happily the restaurant had NO ISSUE allowing our purchase to get passed amongst the kidlets and parked in the middle of the table. Lunch was abfab but that is a different blog entry entirely. Today dear reader we stay focused on the TurtleAdventure. How were we going to get the wee beasties into the The Met? Lisa bought a lovely red Chinese silk tote bag that the cage fit into perfectly. So, with plastic bag lining the tote and the turtles ensconced we headed for the Met. En rout somebody (actually several somebodys had to pee. By the time we reached the Museum bladders were at emergency levels. Lisa has to a.) smuggle the turtles past the security guards and b.) get three boys to the pissoir. She did it!

The guards at the front were either aware that turtles don't explode but bladders do and waved her through, or they just really didn't care that the bag was sloshing. They did however manage in their blindness to dump about a cup of water out of the turtle containment device. Gradually soaking the bottom of the beautiful silk about 90 shades darker than the top of the bag. After the journey through the city all three herpivores successfully made it back to Baldwin. Stay tuned for How our Frank makes it all the way back to Michigan!