The Furious Bean

Florida Keys - New Years 2011

2012-01-02T22:54:00.010-05:00

We jetted ourselves down the the Florida Keys for the week between Christmas and New Year. We try to spend this week somewhere warm, just with each other, every year. Well...let's say we've tried to do it every year, with varying success. As my better half says, there's no better way to ring in the new year than under the rustle of a palm-frond roof, a gently lapping shoreline limned with Tiki torches. Tough work if you can get it.

This year, we went to the Florida Keys to paddle and snorkel - and met up with the guys we'd paddled with in the Finger Lakes, and serendipitously, a couple with whom we'd shared a very lively conversation over beers and burgers. We were guided through some particularly magnificent spots, where the mangrove channels get so small that you have to stow the paddle, and haul yourself through, hand over hand...sometimes while lying on your belly.

We also went snorkeling in a lively and healthy coral reef about five miles off the Sombrero Beach in Marathon, where we were staying. I will attempt to share any pictures that come out of the underwater camera we got for the occasion. Highlights from this included swimming over a seven foot nurse shark and then an even larger stingray, hanging out with a small sea turtle as it nibbled its way along the reef, and bravely making our way through throngs of foot-wide moon jellies.

We took a sunset cruise around Key West on a boat that, by day, is occupied by frequently naked gay men, and by night is opened up to those of us who don't mass together in nude groups. Behind Alexis is Julie, half of that fun Upstate couple, and then Cody and Ryan from Finger Lakes Paddleboard.

We stayed in this unbelievably crappy hotel in Marathon. At first, we felt really far away from everything centered in Key West. It's funny, we just didn't understand that the Keys stretch about 127 miles from upper Key Largo to Key West. But, in fact, much of what we really would want to do in the Keys is better in the Middle Keys than in Key West at the Southern Tip. The Snorkeling was fantastic, the beach (Sombrero Beach) is the best of the Keys, and there is even great Mangrove and Wreck paddling. Next time, we will just head directly to the Middle Keys and ignore the drunken Croc-wearing crowds of Key West.

Even though our hotel was atrocious, we had great meals:

A great dock to share with the pelicans:

And the first Mimosas of the New Year:

As we drove north on U.S. 1 to Miami - salt drying in our hair from a final swim and listening to oldies WWUS (U.S. 1 radio broadcasting out of Big Pine Key) - I turned to Alexis and said what I'll say to you: It's going to be a great year.

In the B&O trainyard

2011-11-14T10:14:00.003-05:00

We have a world-class railroad museum in downtown Baltimore. We had planned to make a late-afternoon Sunday dash as a work break. I accidentally left the tickets at home, but we did get to wander the train yard. This beauty is a gigantic steam engine, just sitting there and waiting for you to cozy up to it.

Gul-durnit!

2011-11-06T07:01:00.003-05:00

This is a real problem! I thought the nomming would stop when the weather changed...but the weather never changes inside the hoop house. I picked off one particularly well-fed fellow yesterday and held him aloft. He was curled around the tip of the straw I'd used, and in the golden sun of late fall, his little yellow dashes seemed particularly dashing, and his collard-colored skin looked vibrant and velvety. I sighed and put him back in the hoop house. It's his only little life, you know? He only gets one, I only get one.

On losing weight and being game

2011-11-04T10:49:00.008-04:00

Between last fall and this fall I've lost about 50 pounds.

It's not so much that I see my body much differently. I still look the same to me as I ever have...though I can see the change in my face. The picture on the left is from our 2010 trip to England, and the picture on the right is from today - from my desk (I am sick, by the way).

What has really changed, is that suddenly, after all these years, I AM GAME.

I am game for it, man.

I was never game. Not as a kid, not as an adult. Kids would start to race and I would yell: "I'm not racing!"

Well, I'm still kind of like that -- I don't like to compete and when I do I expect to roundly lose, which is often the case. However, as a grown-up, I have found out that - surprise! - this is not the only way to be physical. I have run, on and off, for years, but I've never liked it. But, this year, being game as I am, I experimented and found two things that I am head-over-heels for: Snowboarding and Stand-Up Paddleboarding.

I didn't know.
I didn't know that by being game, I would find so much joy.
I didn't know, but I'm happy I know now.

Drunk at Brunch

2011-11-02T09:10:00.005-04:00

Pictures taken by my mom's friend Kendall, who visited in early October.

Seventeen years...

Luckey Haskins...

2011-11-01T14:01:00.001-04:00

...is a very good boy. Also warm on the neck.

Hoop!

2011-10-31T11:09:00.006-04:00

Mom and I put in a raised bed this Fall, and I'd stocked it with the greens that the dogs kept stepping on and also planted two types of kale. I got nervous, though with the approach of this early winter, that I'd lose my seedlings.

So, as the slush was coming down, I was crouched in my front lawn (wearing a down vest under a rain coat) making this awesome hoop house I learned about on the You Tubes. I managed to mis-measure even the few measurements required, but it works nonetheless.

After I was done, I stepped back and looked at it from the street and it looks, well, kinda janky. But, that's why we moved to our particular neighborhood...Alexis and I are, to put it mildly, a little bit country. Stuff we do in the yard is going to look a bit off for the middle of the city. But our neighborhood just isn't as fancy as some of the other places we were looking to live. So, we can pretty much do things the way we want and not be the pariahs of our street...

ASSBRECHT 2011

2011-10-29T09:50:00.022-04:00

Yesterday marked the monumental end of "Alexis and Shana's Shockingly Big, Ridiculous, East Coast Halloween Tour '11" - for time's sake let's call it ASSBRECHT 2011. Turns out it's how Alexis wants to spend her birthday month - catching as much haunted house action as possible. October is a great month for getting obsessed about something, falling as it does between the Board (stand-up) and Board (snow) seasons, but good lord, did we do it up this year:

Pennhurst Asylum
We were waiting for this one. The haunts themselves were alright, but the place was AMAZING. Actually, their tunnel haunt was totally cool, snaking as it did through the underground passages which they had filled with fog, screwed up floors, and disorienting lighting. They had a huge bonfire, we ate really good ribs, and I ran through a rat maze and fell down in the mud. Excellent evening.

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ShocktoberFest
Surprisingly awesome! We got there late, so I wasn't sure we'd see everything -- and it was basically pouring and freezing. However, their prison-break themed house rawked - a ton of dark groping, LOUD clanging, and enthusiastic scarers made it totally fun. Also, I met a snake.

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Netherworld in Atlanta, GA
We'd heard for a while about this one...we flew to Atlanta - which rocks by the way, we really loved what we saw - and met up with Sarah and Mark. The house itself was pretty good, but PACKED, with a huge, huge, huge line. Their secondary house was basically sewer-horror, which I appreciated deeply.

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Halloween Horror Nights in Orlando, FL
Oh, man, this was fun. The haunts were alright - not the greatest, but okay. However, wandering drunkenly through a darkened and haunted Universal Studios was pretty feckin' awesome. We tromped through the park for seven hours (from 7p to 2a)-- it was outlandish.

Note to selves: cherry vodka is a GREAT halloween shot.

Did I mention we're nearing 40? It kicked our asses.

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Run for Your Lives Zombie 5K
This was possibly the most fun we've ever had. Alexis emitted ear-splitting screams at terrified runners, and still has not fully recovered her voice.

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Bennett's Curse
Our local haunt -- just 1/2 hour away and full of DC'ers. Included Howard Dean's 2004 scream as a sound effect. Waiting for somebody to use the Wilhelm, but maybe it's too expensive?

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Field of Screams
Maybe our favorite one. Seriously, I thought it was going to suck, so I tried to talk us out of it for weeks. But here's a story for you: when Alexis was little - say 10 or 12, she went through a haunted house that changed her life - she thinks it was called "Fit of Fun" somewhere around SouthEastern Penna. What made it so amazing, she remembers, is that it was built into a big old house, so you had to go through doors, up the stairs into the attic, crouch through small, dark mazes...all the while having to deal with sensory tricks - uneven floors, rooms painted to seem as if they were getting smaller, strange lights, etc. Field of Screams is the closest thing we've ever found, and it may even have been made by the same people. We LOVED it.

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The good doctor works the next three nights, so for her that's it. Tomorrow, I am going to the Lantern and Luminaria parade downtown. I'm expecting it to be transcendent, a perfect start to winter.

Tallahassee and Wakulla Springs, Florida

2011-08-08T22:47:00.003-04:00

We spent four days visiting the brave new Floridians. The city was, infuriatingly, cooler than Baltimore, and our time better air conditioned. That being said, we did take the opportunity to bob about in the 90-degree water of "Shark Island." Videos on youtube showed Hammerheads and other toothy denizens of the not-so-deep shoving their scaly bodies within about 5 feet of the edge of the sea.

PRO-TIP: when looking to swim at a new beach, do NOT google "shark" and "name of beach in question." It just can't be good news, can it.

However, even closer to Tallahassee, is a freshwater spring which flows into a clear and beautiful river which flows into the sea. It's called Wakulla Springs, it is 69 degrees summer and winter, and it was the site of several jungly movies of the 30s and 40s.

It's full of alligators:

And, it's full of Manatees, which are honestly quite terrifying:

But amazing...

Jane's Island and Chincoteague

2011-07-31T07:17:00.009-04:00

Years and years and years ago, before we were even considering growing to adulthood, Alexis and I went to Jane's Island State Park. The park is on the southwestern-most tip of the DelMarVa peninsula. It has about 30 miles of calm, wide paddling trails that wander through reedy, wildlife-filled marshland.

I vividly remember the first time we drove down Route 413 to Crisfield, Maryland (that's right, we named our dog after the town). It was early morning, and the world around us was misted and green. The road dropped away on either side into wide, sluggish ditches, and peeling paint whistle-stop towns flicked by. We were there with a Kayak group out of Pittsburgh (this was the infamous trip where I got stuck, upside-down, in the water while practicing wet exits), and that night a hurricane moaned and swam its way through the tall pines surrounding our small green Eureka tent. In the morning, we found a tree frog had taken refuge under our rain fly - stickily balancing on the end of the ridge pole. We carefully removed him and went body-surfing in the storm surge.

We went as often as we could, then, from Pittsburgh. We even tried it a few times from Ann Arbor but the trip was too long, and honestly, we just got too sad. So it was with great momentous-ness-pomp-osity that we loaded our two trusty craft onto the truck and headed east to Annapolis and over the bridge.

We were on the water for 8 hours Thursday and 8 hours Friday. We are sizzled messes, but if we were there now, I'd have been on the water all day yesterday and ready for more today. This is due, in large part, to my lovely new undercarriage: Bluebelle (a SurfTec rigid SUP).

The water in Jane's Island was pretty flat, with a moderate current. I spent a lot of the trip paddling on my knees (an acceptable form, even if it is a stand-up paddleboard) not because of the footing but because the sheer number of sea nettles made me a bit nervous about pitching in.

The next day, on the open ocean, I got a lot of practice keeping my footing over waves and chop:

Not that I didn't go ass over teakettle many, many times...but that's the best part! One second you're fighting to stay atop this rocking and diving platform, and the next second, you're in the warm and wonderful ocean. What's better than that?

Actually, dolphins are better than that. Three pods passed as close as 15 feet from us. We heard them breath, we could identify the babies, and we observed them playing. Incredible.

Our paddle on Friday was much longer than we had thought, mostly because we didn't bother to read the map, but also because I was poling an eleven-foot dinner plate through three-foot chop and significant wind. We went about six miles , and 3.5 hours without stopping. Extreme.

England 2010 Episode 1: Literary Oxford

2010-07-07T20:15:00.013-04:00

Though I knew that Oxford, besides being outrageously beautiful, had spewed forth a bucketful of my favorite writers - Tolkien, Phillip Pullman, Lewis Carroll, C.S. Lewis, Aldous Huxley, even Oscar Wilde. It turns out, that the place was more than just conducive to flights of fancy. In fact, many of the most amazing places and things seem, well, sort of copied.

A most obvious, and non-egregious example of this is the use of the Oxford Botanical Gardens as a backdrop for Lyra and Will's annual non-meetings (its at the end of the Amber Spyglass). I was spending a happy afternoon there, admiring a giant rhubarb (Gunnera manicata) that I had spied through the fence the previous day and had paid admission to admire up close:

When two older gentlemen asked me if I knew where Lyra and Will's bench was. I didn't, but I googled it using my now-unlocked iPhone and a 5-pound SIM card. It was the next bench over, and I asked a nervous looking women editing a powerpoint presentation to get up so I could take a picture:

Another non-egregious example of literary inspiration is the whole of Carroll/Dodgson's Alice adventures, which seemed to take place in the two square blocks between Christ Church College and the River Cherwell. Here is where old Lewis/Lutwidge "happened" to bump into Alice Liddell *every fricken day* after lunch, the old rascal:

Ah, the River Cherwell - sluggish, green, and full of punters at the best of times:

Now, Tolkien, the beloved...may have, in fact, just been a collector of things and not an inventor. Even he admitted that the stories were mostly retellings of ancient Saxon tales - but he also used what was around him in Oxford (the tree that was the first Ent):

And in the Cotswolds (the Gate to Moria - not my photo): (for goodness' sake, there's even a Buckland in the Cotswolds).

The real thing of Oxford, though, is that it really does provide the perfect backdrop for these wonderful flights of fancy. Just walking through it, it strikes one as a dreamy and unreal sort of locale, from which one might believe any number of impossible things.

The view from our front door:

Christ Church Gardens:

The view from dusty paths into cool green courtyards:

Old stone everywhere:

And only a few smarmy bastards in the pubs:

Coming soon!

2010-03-30T18:27:00.004-04:00

Our new house... we're on the left, but the right is coming up for sale soon and we're bound and determined to get it and use both sides.

It's a duplex from 1846 - built as part of the Vernon Mills worker's housing: 42 units rented to the cotton mill workers. At the time, it sat two miles outside city limits, so it is part of its own little grid. The city grew up around it, and it remains intact as part of the neighborhood of Hampden. It's about 3 miles from Alexis's job, and five blocks from a sweet little shopping district.

It has a lawn (and part of it gets full-day sun, hooray!), from the patio in the back you can see the other stone houses. It's like the most charming little hidden village, but within a few minutes of everything!

It comes in glass and metal

2010-03-18T20:45:00.003-04:00

No plastic.
No paper.

We are getting milk delivered again!

It is with giddy expectation that I pad down the stairs and out the door to experimentally heft a cooler we leave on the porch. More often than not, the box is heavy with fresh milk and cream. Maybe a dozen eggs. Maybe a pound of butter so delicious I eat it with a spoon. Maybe a frozen chuck roast. Maybe ice cream.

In Michigan, our milkman was often late. Pierced and tattooed, he brought biscuits for the dogs and left us a newsletter ("The Moo News") with our bill printed on the back. He was just lovely, but late! How can one lure one's spouse from bed if there are only empties - no cream for her coffee?

But not here!

We are on a new route, so they've told me. Did it have to do with my saddened silence on the phone? I am crediting my moping with bringing us Fresh! Milk!

A new route, so he comes first thing.

The cream comes early, but I still let her sleep.

Crisfield update

2010-03-17T09:42:00.002-04:00

Crisfield is feeling better, thank you. Though in the last weeks, she's continued to feel put-upon...she doesn't like to be touched on her back, she's cold (think of losing that much hair), sighs a lot and is generally mopey.

However, when she's feeling sad, she's generally extremely cute:

(She put herself in the basket with a sigh and a groan...Alexis covered her with a blanket and she slept that way all night.)

Plucked Chicken

2010-03-05T17:40:00.001-05:00

Crisfield had a very bad trip to the kennel which ended up with a very bad bath which resulted in this very sad skin condition.

Ridiculously Cute Knitted Thingees

2010-02-17T11:17:00.003-05:00

We got the most delightful package from my sister, containing two pairs of fingerless gloves (smoker's mittens?, iPhone-adapted-winter-wear?)

Dark green heather for Alexis and knobbly-lacy leaf green for me. We hold hands a lot while we're wearing them. In fact, we were holding hands and walking through our still-snowy neighborhood when we saw this outside the local yarn store:

The knitting actually goes a lot higher - pretty much as far as their needles could reach.

The Three Feet of Ought Ten

2010-02-07T13:13:00.003-05:00

This has been the most beautiful welcome back to the East coast. Three fluffy, beautiful feet of snow fell in about 24 hours - stopping the hustle, the bustle, and covering the city in the deepest fall since 1922. Alexis stayed downtown on Friday night to get to her shift, and was going to stay again in order to be there by 7am. But no, my doctor slogged through 3.5 miles of slush and ice and snow to get home to me - and did it all again this morning to be back at work by seven. The dogs and I went to meet her:

One thing to know about dogs - they will always take the easy way...here they can be seen shuffling along in a pre-formed track. Earlier in our walk, we came upon strangers and the dogs fell quite happily between them, satisfied to let anybody clear the way.

Today the sky is bright blue and the sun in starting to melt the slush. In an hour I'll head downtown to see the carnage.

Good Lord! The snow is coming!

2010-02-05T16:45:00.004-05:00

There has been a week-long buildup to this storm. A-bert went in early today for an evening shift and will stay at the Mariott downtown so that she won't have to risk the roads tomorrow morning. The rest of us are home, and now the snow is finally starting to come. We're in the attic, watching documentaries on Netflix and gathered around the heater.

There are five creatures in this picture - can you find them?

Davidge Hall

2010-02-03T23:30:00.010-05:00

The Museum of Public Works has tragically closed due to budget constraints, so we spent the afternoon poking around Davidge Hall - the first and oldest continuously used medical school building in the US. Here were the highlights:

The acoustically phenomenal dissection chamber...if you stand in the very center of the room, your own voice is reflected back from every surface of the peeling and coffered ceiling. I stood in the center and listened to myself sigh dramatically and snap my gum obnoxiously. It was annoying. I annoyed myself.

What happened in the dissection chamber? Dissection, of course. According to contemporary letters from school deans, the janitor was a top-notch body snatcher, "as handy with a spade as with any broom." This janitor was *so* good, the dean offered to send cadavers up and down the East coast for the mere cost of $50. That money went more towards shipping materials than for handling fees -- after all, it took GALLONS AND GALLONS of WHISKEY to pickle the bodies, and a STURDY BARREL to ship them in.
This is one of the actual barrels, on display next to a desiccated and uncapped body in a dusty corner of the third floor of the oldest medical education building in the nation.
Actually, this corner room is where students would cluster around the mummified corpses - it's a tiny room, I can't imagine cramming together by candlelight over these bodies.

Here's the thing...this kind of behavior was considered as reprehensible then as it is today. Doctors, and especially those doctors studying, I don't know, treppaning techniques, by stealing, pickling, and then desecrating Great Aunt Mary (and frequently RE-SELLING THE PICKLING WHISKEY to make back some of the money) were vilified in general opinion and occasionally mobs would storm the medical school. Davidge Hall was originally surrounded by high walls, and included this hidden circular staircase that acted as a secret passage to get students and faculty out of the dissection hall and out the back door. Here, a modern-day doctor recreates these tense moments:

Dogs in baskets!

2010-01-18T20:59:00.001-05:00

New dog cups - now with tassels!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Most Expensive Freezing In The World

2010-01-11T20:11:00.000-05:00

People in stone houses shouldn't expect to be warm come winter. Three feet from the heater is warm enough, six feet away is 58 degrees.

St. Lucia 2009-2010

2010-01-06T10:51:00.012-05:00

In honor of, well, lots of things - starting a new adventure in a new place, fifteen years together, the turn of the decade - Alexis took me to the most beautiful place I've ever been...nestled between the Pitons on St. Lucia in the Lesser Antilles.

Evidently, New Years in the Carribean is quite the place. Luckily, Alexis found us the most beautiful and wondrous resort - it was quiet and lovely. The ocean splooshed on a private crescent of white sand between these two mountains - the Grosse and Petit Pitons. Some islands in the sea are sand spits - visible from above as a chain of islands surrounded by shallow waters (and eventually a massive drop-off). Other islands, like St. Lucia, are volcanic - the jungled mountains were just mountain-tops, the bulk of them being under water. The air smelled of sulpher, and there are supposed to be bubbling warm mud pits that we didn't manage to visit this time.

Did you know that coral reefs have died back by 80% in the last decade? It is the most heartbreaking thing to see the algae-covered calcium substructures devoid of color. But there are still wonderful schools of fish in the shallows - around the corner in Anse Chastenet, we swam through thousands of them.

Alexis contemplates a flounder. Flounder rolls eyes nervously.

How many flounders do you see?

Best, possibly, however were these amazing creatures:

Look closely - what in the world could line up like this (which the often did in size order, no kidding)?

Can you tell? They had amazing phosphorescent markings and flashed (!!!) at some unconscious jerk who swam right at them. Then they inked and swooshed away. I looked up for a moment to get my bearings and when I ducked back underwater there were tiny puffs of blackness disappating in the sea. And just a couple of weeks ago I was declaring my love of cephalopods and my desire to see a cuttlefish (well, and octopus, really - but these guys were even more interactive and interesting). I contemplate my love of cephalopods quite regularly, just the thought of them makes me surprisingly happy.

Alexis hides well among the seaweed:

We kayaked out so far that they motored out to see if we were okay. We were.

I've already told Alexis we're going back next year. I'm starting a savings account for that purpose...

Shanukah 2009

2009-06-23T13:31:00.004-04:00

Next year:

7:30pm
June 19, 2010
Somewhere in Baltimore

Also and mostly...

2009-06-16T18:50:00.002-04:00

Go green.

You all get that fundraising email from Obama and the DNC?

2009-06-16T18:14:00.002-04:00

Instead of just deleting it, I unsubscribed with this message:

Get to work or GET LOST. You will get no more money from this "second class citizen," whose 15-year relationship your administration compares to an uncle marrying his niece. I'm organizing, all right, but I'm organizing to make you KEEP your promises to LGBT Americans.

We've been used as political pawns for so long - I don't know why it still hurts so much.

Keeping flowers...

2009-06-14T17:25:00.004-04:00

I haven't been that good at planting a cutting garden. In fact, I didn't consider it at all when I picked out potentials at the nursery.

But, even so, there are interesting things to bring in for my desk -- never quite a typical bouquet, but lovely nonetheless.

Pictured here:
Two of the three types of roses in the rose hedge
Coral Bells
A giant tripartite leaf of Jack in the Pulpit, which grows wild in the shady garden areas. It took me years to figure out what I was looking at, since most of the Jack in the Pulpit leaves I'd seen in the woods were about 1.5 inches or so. But, this Jack is high on compost - leaves are about 9-10 inches each.

Something amazing...

2009-06-12T18:18:00.002-04:00

What's amazing is not that this shit existed - and existed as recently as the 1970s.

What's really amazing is that in the course of a few decades, our mothers remade the world for us.

Thanks, mom.

35 Things on a 35th Birthday

2009-06-10T11:01:00.005-04:00

1. I am officially in my mid-thirties.

2. Things are pretty damn good.

3. I am also pretty damn tired.

4. I have, like, the cutest nephew ever.

5. I need a vacation of some sort.

6. I have recently discovered the wonder of the eliptical machine - I go for about an hour, as many times a week as I can manage, and time my sessions so I can watch "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report".

7. I have also been known to spend my hour watching the Ann Arbor Planning Commission meetings.

8. These meetings often infuriate me so much I scream out loud and point.

9. I have pointed so hard I almost fell off the machine.

10. Also, around minute 45, I begin to develop a line of chafing at the very edge of my butt cheeks.

11. So, I lube up before my work out - yes, that's right...lubricated butt cheeks.

12. I have a long, long slog of a summer before me.

13. I have five incompletes that I need to finish before the end of July.

14. These incompletes have made my advisor very, very nervous. Me? Not so much.

15. In the past year, I have been diagnosed with both Depression and ADHD. I have taken medication for both.

16. Turns out, some drugs are good drugs and some drugs are bad drugs.

17. ADHD medication is a good drug.

18. I have slowly come to feel that I would be very, very happy staying snugly in the Ivory Tower of academia.

19. In the past year, I lost my sweet/mean bunny.

20. I miss him more than I thought you could miss something that weighed 900 Grams.

21. When we settle again, Alexis will allow me to fulfill my dream of having a bonded pair of Welsh Giant rabbits. They are about 15 pounds each.

22. We are moving to Baltimore. Did you know?

23. I am so unbelievably excited to be moving back to the East Coast.

24. Baltimore is a cool, rag-tag kinda place, and I bet we could fall hard for the Charm City.

25. I'll be here all Fall semester - I'm TAing a course, so Alexis and I will be living some type of bachelor lifestyles.

26. My bachelor lifestyle will involve a lot of writing, a lot of pinball, and a lot of accordion.

27. In the past year (as of August, really), I have taken up accordion.

28. I had always enjoyed the accordion, but I LOVE it now that I'm playing it.

29. When I first began playing, I had a strange familiarity with the spatial relations of the keys, so much so that my teacher asked if I had played before.

30. I think I must have played accordion in a past life.

31. I'll be playing an accordion duet in the Winter concert at my music school - me and a bunch of twelve year olds.

32. I can't WAIT for KlezKanada this year. I'm actually going to be able to play stuff, and I can't wait to hang out and play with my accordion buddy.

33. Speaking of buddies - I am excited about moving, but am HEARTBROKEN about leaving some of my friends here. I am going to miss Carole so much, it'll be like losing a finger. And what'll we do without Mir and Lisa (though, they're officially leaving us first, so I take less responsibility for the break up).

34. I grow more and more grateful for my family - my incredible mom, my lovely dad, and my sisters who I love and miss so much it's actually making me cry as I write this.

35. I also grow more and more grateful for my partner and partnership. As time passes, I become more aware of the treasure I hold - and it in turn becomes more and more precious to me. I can't believe I'm so lucky. How did I get so lucky?

This is what 35 looks like:

Funny things your advisor says to you:

2009-06-08T12:04:00.001-04:00

"Is there something wrong with your back?"

He says pointing to the wide belt you've fastened around an open cardigan, a la Michelle Obama.

"Oh, sorry, it's a very nice belt!"

Orange you glad?

2009-06-01T19:06:00.010-04:00

Three hours of sleep in as many days, but went to Pavel's to celebrate the re-opening of his studio.

While there, I tried a few songs on a little girl's Acmette.

Cute, but broken and the straps were so tiny! I'm hunched over because I can't wear it (so I hold it still with my chin while I play).

Me and Pavel, my snarky, rude, hysterical, ridiculous, amazing accordion teacher. Man, I just love this guy...to think, when I first saw his name I figured I'd be working with some 92-year-old Polish guy in a polyester suit from his glory days on the Polka circuit. Shows what I know!

I'm so freaked out about losing him that I'm upping my lessons to twice a week for the summer. I came to learn the accordion, but I stay for the well-crafted insults.

Sultry Bulgarian. Angry Jew.

Detritus

2009-06-01T18:00:00.000-04:00

3 days,
3 hours of sleep,
14 boxes of raspberries.

Mid-Theory Exam

2009-05-31T09:36:00.001-04:00

I have had no sleep and lots of coffee.
I have taken a full-hot shower.
I have a growth on my forehead that may be a pimple and may be a horn.

Memorial Day NOTE TO SELF

2009-05-25T08:20:00.002-04:00

Do not feed your dogs a giant bowl each of smoked cocktail weenies and baked sauerkraut that you were going to take to a party but decided it did not come out well so you shoved it in the freezer and left it there until you realized you were never going to eat it or feed it to anyone so it was high time to get rid of it and the dogs would eat it out of the compost anyway so you might as well just give it to them directly.

I don't think it sits well with them.

They've been drinking large quantities of water and walking a bit stiff.

Crisis: I am now out of books!

2009-05-23T10:17:00.002-04:00

I think I'll go buy myself the Garth Nix Abhorsen series in paperback.

I have chatted!

2009-05-23T08:19:00.002-04:00

I know this shouldn't be a revelation, but I actually chatted with my old friend Kris via Facebook last night (by old, I mean that our friendship is old, that Shana/Kris is old, but Kris herself is not old). It was very entertaining. Maybe I've done it once before, but it was years ago, and I promptly forgot the action, the motive, and the technology.

So, I'm going to open Facebook while I work. If you want to talk with me - you now know where I am.

Edit request from AB

2009-05-22T22:43:00.001-04:00

Please change "well-thumbed Thomas Mann" to "well-thumbed Herman Hesse."

T. Mann is a bit gay. It's Hesse with the real Germanic adolescent-angst-retained-into-adulthood-reframed-as-intellectual/spiritual-depth. . .

*********************

Will do, honey.
Will do.

Oh, to sleep

2009-05-22T08:41:00.004-04:00

I haven't been sleeping much. That's not a huge surprise, right? But I've been getting about an hour less of sleep each night because I have been turning to my most comforting childhood books at night. I tend towards trilogies and series in order to reduce the angst I feel at the end of a good book.

So far:
The Dark is Rising series
The Blue Sword
The Hero and the Crown (what I'm reading now)
The Outlaws of Sherwood
The Heralds of Valdemar (before Mercedes Lackey got so prolific)
All Creatures Great and Small (okay, this was from AB's childhood, but turns out to be quite charming)

I'm thinking of re-reading Robin McKinley's fairy tale series (Beauty, Spindle's End), and maybe even sinking into the DragonSinger trilogy. You might notice that I greatly prefer stories with female leads, and I'm always on the lookout for books where the central character stays the hell home and has a great adventure on her own hearth. I'm more interested in the domestic sphere than the heroic sphere...

Oh, here's a factoid about me that might weird you out: my favorite scenes from my favorite movies (you know, the ones you watch when you're feeling sad or overwhelmed - you watch until that scene and then shut it off?) have to do with COOKING AND CLEANING. I am just in love with the Miyazaki movies (Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle, Totoro) because he usually includes cleaning sequences, and at least a quick bit in the kitchen.

I would like to say that I read interesting, heavy, deep stuff...but all those books you see on our shelves - the well-thumbed Hesse, the reviled Thomas Mann, and the much-loved Herman Melville - they're all Alexis's. The Dragon Rider Trilogy read so many times the spine fell off? That's mine.

Things I find on my camera:

2009-05-22T08:30:00.003-04:00

No, I'm totally not joking. You are seeing two .357 Magnum revolvers, one semi-auto 45, and a kevlar vest.

All this because someone was told they could be neither a cop nor an army guy.

I guess when one becomes a working adult, one can begin to collect the accoutrements of a wished-for life. I'm totally okay with it, especially if it means that the beloved is not actually engaged in traffic stops or burning bibles in Baghdad.

The nightmare across the street

2009-05-21T09:07:00.004-04:00

We live right across the street from a park bordering an elementary school. Usually the kids stay on the playground in the back, and we only hear the whistles blowing in the distance.

One or two days a year, however, they set up cones in the park and MAKE THE CHILDREN RUN AROUND AND AROUND. I can't tell you what a chill this sends down my back - hopefully if you're reading this, it also brings back nightmarish memories of your childhood. I have such terrible memories of gym, and gym class, and gym teachers, and especially the Presidential Fitness Program (which I suspect this running is part of).

Newsflash: Children don't exercise like adults - they don't get on the eliptical for an hour every night to catch the re-run of the Daily Show and the Colbert Report - they play. By themselves, with each other, with pets and birds and bugs. Kids should play, not exercise.

What's ridiculous is that as much as I hated gym, I grew up into a person who runs. But I became this in spite of the horrible physical education I received at the hands of our public school system. That education taught me that I hated any form of exercise, and, moreover, I wasn't capable of it. It took me years to overcome that training - and when I did, I found that I was burdened with a weight of shame, self-doubt, and hate-talk that I learned at the hands of masters. These same types of masters I hear "cheering" on their children every Saturday morning:
Move, move, move!
It's right in front of you, get it! GET IT!
What are you doing? Wake up!
What was THAT??
Come ON!

The most beautiful little boy

2009-05-20T09:40:00.006-04:00

Four things become clear from this photo:
1. An early commitment to dental hygiene.
2. Long, curling toesies - I have been pinched by long toes such as those!
3. A sunny morning disposition
4. Cuteness!

Having Noah be so far away is just heartbreaking. I have been so busy and self-centered this year, I have had no time for travel and haven't seen him since September. I know that when we meet next, he won't know me at all and won't be interested in letting me smell his little head, kiss his sweet cheeks, and gather his long limbs to me in a little boy bundle. I dream of a big family house where Noah runs down the stairs to curl up with the dogs, steal our toothbrushes, and demand special breakfasts from his Aunt and Ankle.

Happy Land

2009-05-19T13:16:00.005-04:00

Honestly, I was the most content I've been in months:

Also, we spent the evening with good, good friends. It is going to break our hearts to leave them.

Me and Carole:

Mir (seen here shooting with Alexis):

And Nancy, who I'm begging to finally make an appearance at Shanukah:

Life is pretty good

2009-05-18T09:59:00.005-04:00

Every morning, now, I drive to our neighborhood Panera and buy one of everything I like:
Spinach and Artichoke Souffle
Cranberry Orange Muffin
Chocolate Duet Walnut Cookie
Earl Grey Tea

And sit for hours in a lovely booth, reading/writing, and watching traffic until the lunch crowd rolls in. This is my life for the next three years or so, and I'm determined to love it. Alright, I already love it.

Last night, we painted the garage and moved the woodpile. AB put down mulch everywhere and the house and lawn look really lovely. I think it's pretty typical that your house looks its best just before you put it on the market. We sat out by our incredible fire-pit for hours - making fire-pie hamburgers (unbelievably good) and burning parts of the house (seriously, our lot is 1/8 of an acre, and we produce almost all of our wood on-site).

Tonight is the free (FREE, I TELL YOU), Zingerman's party at Pinball Pete's. Four hours of totally free video gaming - when it asks you "Do you want to continue?" after you've died for the twentieth time, you just press start and it does! Pool, pinball, fancy sword games, that police game where you have to duck to hide behind cars and stuff, the turret game where you sit in a red ball, and lots of zombie killing.

Alexis and I played air hockey for the first time a few weeks ago (at another free Pinball Pete's night - yes, we're lucky kids), and we LURVE it. Although my movements are sloth-speed normally, air hockey brings out my cat-like reflexes.

Toad Harvest

2009-05-16T13:09:00.005-04:00

It's time for the Mid-May Toad Harvest!

Not a bad crop - some of 'em are a bit puny...but we've got some large-sized grumpers in there too.

It was a good distraction from studying - can you see how insane I look? This is not a mistake, I look this way a lot.

Also, cleavage. I know, sorry.

Patches!

2009-05-16T09:15:00.002-04:00

I am in the process of ordering PATCHES for Shanukah 2009. It's gonna be so cool.

I am also in the process of studying for a 3-day test at the end of the month. It's also gonna be cool.

Theory Exam: May 29th-31st
Shanukah 2009: June 20th

Luck-luck

2009-05-15T11:02:00.006-04:00

The vet gave us a look yesterday when we handed over Luckey Haskins. We swear to god, it's all fuzz (not fat).

We had a bit of a struggle there...but ultimately resolved to get along.

Some things to know about Luckey:
1. He's named after an exit sign on Rt. 75 South. On one side of the highway is Luckey, Ohio, on the other is Haskins, Ohio.
2. A few weeks ago, we discovered he owns and operates a small antique store near our Trader Joe's called: Lucky Haskin's Antiques and Oddities. We have no idea how he secured business financing in this economy, but he's not talking.
3. He is very fluffy. He has toehawks.
4. We call his tail his "majesty" because it is truly majestic.

Sent to Senator George Winner - NYS Senate R-053

2009-05-14T09:39:00.005-04:00

Hello Senator Winner,

My name is Shana Greenstein. I was born in Elmira, grew up in Watkins Glen and currently live out of state. I am writing to you because you have expressed your plan to vote no on the upcoming marriage bill, and I'm asking you with all my heart to reconsider and vote for equity.

I wanted to tell you a little bit about my partnership. I met my partner, Alexis, 15 years ago at college. I have to say it was love at first sight - after one look, I felt I had known her my whole life. We've been together through college, graduate school, and I am happy to say she is now an MD. Now, it's my turn and I'm in a doctoral program in Urban and Regional Planning, and my research is focused on making public spaces that are welcoming to all kinds of people.

My dad still owns a farm in Watkins Glen, and someday that farm may come to Alexis and I. We've talked a lot about relocating back upstate - I could teach at one of the local colleges, and she could work at one of the smaller hospitals in the area. We're talking seriously about starting a family, and we'd like to have our children grow up in the country. It's a lifestyle that would suit us just fine.

We own a small fixer-upper in Michigan, we have adopted five animals from local shelters, and we're involved in our community. We shovel our elderly neighbor's sidewalk in the winter, we help stray dogs find their way home - we're not superheroes, but we're good and caring folks. Frankly, I bet we're just the type of couple you'd want moving back to your district.

I can also tell you that we are moving soon, and we're thinking a lot about where we and our kids would be safe. There are now nearby states where we could move - states like Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Vermont that would treat us as full and cherished CITIZENS. Because, honestly, without marriage equity, we are not full citizens - we pay our taxes into a system that doesn't treat us fairly or with dignity.

It's been too long, Senator Winner. Alexis, me, and thousands and thousands of other LGBT couples are tired of staying where we're not wanted. We'll go to states that treat us fairly, and we'll bring:
our tax dollars,
our energy,
our training,
our stability, and
our love and commitment.

We'd like to think we could bring that to New York State - my HOME state. I'd like to be able to come home.

Please make the right decision. Please vote for equality.

Shana Greenstein, MSW
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor

Nerdliness

2009-05-11T10:12:00.002-04:00

I am so excited about my new purchase: a locking, rolling box that contains all my materials for my upcoming theory exam. It is poorly balanced, and I drop the handle all the time, but I lurve it.

All the way from Popper's Falsifiability Assumption to Bentham's Felicific Calculus...from Benjamin's Blase Parisians to Florida's Creative Class and back again.

Gosh, theory is delicious.

What we fight about, when we fight...

2009-05-10T10:12:00.002-04:00

Whether the agglomeration of trillions of individual social (assuming political and economic actions are social) choices constitute any sort of structured system or simply a chaotic field. If structured, one could evaluate it, theorize upon it, compare the neoliberal growth/equilibrium paradox to the Marxist crisis model. If not, then there's no use talking about it and we should just get another pitcher of Oberon.

Oberon: The official drink of Shanukah 2009
June 20th
7:00pm
Ann Arbor, Michigan

NEXT YEAR IN BALTIMORE

LUNCH!

2009-02-02T13:21:00.004-05:00

I eat it now! This is a pretty typical one:

I have recently become totally obsessed with Chinese greens - these are Pak Choy; Avocado - my grocer has gorgeous ones for 75 cents; and all sorts of radishes - these are Korean radishes, giant green and white magical things. Also included is a little salmon salad with sweet corn (how they make tuna salad in the UK).

Ah...

My New Year's Resolution:

2009-01-20T23:14:00.004-05:00

Eat more.

Eat more and more regularly.

So far, it's been going well. I used to only rarely eat breakfast, and often I'd be desperately searching for some horrid food starting around 2:30 in the afternoon. I'm experimenting now with giant breakfasts (Entire bagels with lox! Two slices of toast with my egg! TWO!), and actual lunches. I've even started to consider the merits of an afternoon snack.

When I asked the Good Doctor what I should resolve to do in 2009, she said:
"You should stop drinking pee."
Me: "I do not."
Dr (rolling her eyes): "Oh, yeah. If there's one thing you never do, it's drink pee."
Me: "Come on."
Dr (patting my shoulder): "Well, you do drink a lot less than you used to. But this year, maybe you should quit entirely."
Me:"You are an ass."
Dr: "You say that every time I ask you to stop, but it doesn't make your problem go away."

Yeah, welcome to my kitchen...it's like this every goddamn day.

The Cotswolds - December 2008

2009-01-19T18:47:00.008-05:00

We took a day-long tour through the Cotswolds. We bought blankets and puttered through unbelievably charming villages:

Thundrous ruins:

Thatch-roofed cottages!

And deserted winter roads:

Alexis got drunk at lunch.
Here it is in an action sequence:

#1 Drunk and Happy

#2 Drunk and Rowdy

#3 Drunk and Accusatory

#4 Drunk and Ashamed

#5 Sober and Forgiven

"Are you quite sure that fish was fresh...?

2008-12-24T10:44:00.005-05:00

I'm feeling a bit queasy this morning."
-overheard on the train platform at Bath, the morning after the second of us had come down with the "Winter Vomiting Virus," endemic in Britain, and currently shutting down hospital wings all over the country. In the US, it is the disease of preschoolers and the families of preschoolers - why?

Poor handwashing.

Yes, dirty British hands had us throwing up in some of the poshest towns in the UK.

Bath:

London:

From November 15th

2008-12-06T12:01:00.002-05:00

I'd been begging for one of these giant rainbow golf umbrellas for over a year. Every time we'd go into Target, I'd ask for one. Finally, right before the international day of protest against Prop 8, I went and bought four of them.

We loaned them out to strangers and friends in the soppy, cold rain.

Fiddlers Three

2008-09-07T17:45:00.005-04:00

Miriam and Carole came over on Saturday night, violins in tow. It was a night of squeaking and swearing, and then lovely, rich tones.

KGB's first jam

2008-09-06T04:09:00.006-04:00

The Klezmer Garage Band's founding members:

"Shlo Moe" Greenstein

Chief Sailor Doctor (AKA the "Cursing Croatian")

Labor Dabor 2008!

2008-09-01T18:50:00.003-04:00

We went to the high-steppin' Labor Day Parade in Detroit. We missed the marching bands, but caught the candidate...

There were already three-thousand people jammed into Hart Plaza to see him, so we watched the big screen on Jefferson along with thousands of overflows, one of whom former co-opers may recognize.

KlezKanadia 2008

2008-08-25T09:49:00.004-04:00

I never could have imagined, in my wildest dreams, what it would be like.
Even now, standing in front of my computer - coffee brewing, things to do - I am brought to tears.

What was more important?

Being surrounded by music (and not just any music, the music of my celestial body) - walking through the camp there was a new song every twenty feet, there were performances all day and every night (and not just any performances, but the best klezmer I'd ever seen or heard - maybe because I would stand directly behind players), the singing, the energy? Oy.

or

Being surrounded by Jews (and other sympaticos) - dinner conversations that ended with "well, aren't we all pretty much socialists?"; the Conservative sax player who is emailing me a list of shuls most accepting to non-traditional families in the DC area; the Backward March and the Singing Table, a four hour, candle-lit, pounding, dancing Shabbas evening of Hasidic Niguns?

I know my playing improved significantly, but its more that I learned how to learn a song, how to play through, that playing with feeling is more important than playing all the notes right.

Imagine this...

2008-08-19T12:56:00.002-04:00

A small performance space, people just keep showing up with instruments. Sure, there are chairs, but join the circle of people wailing, squeezing, hammering, what have you. There are thirty or more - playing the old favorites until midnight. There's a famous family band from Ukraine...they lead and point out solists, rhythms, etc. It just gets louder and louder. Shaun says: "There'll be a lot more of this, but next time with alcohol."

My goal is to learn to play - just a few chords, and keep up. Oh, to be part of the tight-packed jam.

KlezKanada 2008: 8/18-8/24

2008-08-17T23:40:00.006-04:00

I've never liked camp.
So why, then am I subjecting myself to a weeks worth of trapped in the Laurentian Mountains? Four to a cabin, no cell and no wireless?

This is why:

This is why:

Klezmer is what my brain sings to itself. It sounds like me, I sound like it. Not so much the freneticism of the Bulgars, the Freylekhs, but the surging wail of a Cantorial riff. I'm going not because I'm any good or expecting to be any good, but because I'm searching always for something that sounds like home. I stumble forward hopefully, though in my heart, I know it's only an echo.

Oh, my sweet little hopper...

2008-08-07T16:18:00.006-04:00

Mr. Tinyman is gone.

I know what you're thinking:
that he was 11,
that he was way, way, way too old for such a tiny and angry little bunny,
that his little body just gave up.

But it's not like that at all.

For such a domesticated, housebound little rabbit - one who'd been eating avocado off my teaspoon just that morning - he died a wild and profound death.

He was in the little grazing pen we made for him, then he was gone. I've left him out to nibble the grasses many, many times over the five years we've lived here. I try to take him in as it gets dark, mostly because that's when the mosquitos get bad.

We went out and got dessert, when we got home I asked Alexis to go get him. But all that was left was a bloodied leaf and a few wisps of his downy under-fur.

The mercy is, owls kill quickly.

Cats and other predators make a huge screaming kafuffle. There would have been blood and fur everywhere, and Kor's last moments would have been desperate ones.

Instead, death came in quickly on silent wings. It took him and they sailed together into the warm night. Would that death comes for all of us that way.

We had been together for ten years, a third of my life.

In the year 2013...

2008-08-06T21:49:00.000-04:00

I just finished my second Zingerman's visioning workshop. The first one was pretty much wildly successful - I did a five-year increment, and the last five years have been basically the best of my life. The way you do it is to transport yourself some time into the future - five years is usually good. Close your eyes and open them into that future life - you are happy and successful. The point of this exercise is to stop reacting to pain, stop focusing your energy on avoiding what hurts --instead move towards creating a new potential. Now write what it looks like.

That vision should be...
Exciting (it should excite you)
Strategically Sound (you should be able to acheive it)
Documented (you have to record it)
Shared (speak it, write it, act it)

Last time I did a vision, I kept it in my calendar for a while, and then in a drawer. I didn't really share it with anybody, but even from the back of the drawer, it changed my life.

This time, I'm trying something different - I'm sharing it for reelz. This means I'm stepping up to claim what I want. Not in a selfish or self-centered way, but that I'm invested enough in my vision to say it out loud.

And I'm putting it here. This blog is where I put stuff that I don't want to lose, and I don't want to lose this vision.
**************

It is June 18th, 2013. I am 39 this year, Alexis is 38. We have two kids, aged 2 and 4. We live just outside Washington, DC, but inside the beltway. We live in a huge, old house that's been subdivided into apartments - we live upstairs, and some combenation of loved ones lives downstairs or floats in and out. Our apartment is sunny and medium-to-small , with a second floor that we carved out of the attic. We have a big deck, and a huge, fenced-in lawn where all the family dogs romp.

All of our family live within a short drive, some even in the same neighborhood. We get together a lot for planned and impromptu family meals, visits, errands, and fun stuff.

Alexis and I work from home most of the time, but I am also frequently traveling. I work for a large, international, non-governmental organization, and I focus on socially regulated scarce resource systems. My work is split between social research and outcome modeling, writing/presenting, and feet-on-the-ground development work. I am often in NYC, and often traveling nationally and internationally. I feel so driven by my work, the energy of what I do impells me - I feel such strong urgency and purpose without being laid low by despair. Yes, things are bad and getting worse, but we have plans to keep our family safe and independent, and are working to make the world better for all families.

We have a weekend farm, it takes less than two hours to get there by car, but is hidden and extremely rural. We go there almost every weekend, and have parties and large gatherings. We plan to move there full time, eventually.

My life is orderly. I get up very early, I have quiet and still time, and then I work. By the time the day is getting active, I have put in hours of work. I get lots of sleep.

I'm in a klezmer troupe. In playing and dancing, I've found ecstatic ritual.

Dearest Father,

2008-07-29T23:52:00.003-04:00

Oh, my wonderful father...it is a great joy to have you in my life.

But your phone is broken.
I think you know this.

You also may notice your cell phone (which gets better reception at your house than at mine, so no excuses from you) has a little message on the screen. Something about a number of missed calls, maybe?

A sort of outrageous number of missed calls, isn't it?
Those were me.

You know the drill, bub: telephone me ASAP or I'm calling the cops.
And, knowing your deferential way with authority figures, they'll mace ya soon as look at ya.

-Your loving daughter

20 years

2008-07-14T23:02:00.003-04:00

How many years I've wanted an accordion.
Next month? KlezCanada.

Toad in the hole

2008-07-01T17:25:00.007-04:00

As usual for this time of year, the basement window wells are full of toads. Those plastic covers don't help - the toads wriggle their warty bodies exultantly under the edging and then land - plop! - in a dry, inhospitable environment.

Every other day I make the rounds to each of the five wells and attempt to discern the nubbly brown grumpers from their nubbly brown surroundings.

It is not easy.

Especially since, given a few days, they dig themselves little toad holes, from which they are inextractable.
I tried a shovel, but got scared (that I might hurt a toad leg).
I tried grabbing little toad heads, but they have NO NECKS. It was like gently grabbing the tip of a sodden, upside-down ice cream cone. If one had occasion to do that.
The solution (not respectful, I know), is to pour water into the hole until they are forced to come to the top. Like an angry marshmallow bobbing in a cup of dirt cocoa...oh, the baleful stares I get.

Then they can be scooped up in a convenient container and carried to more hoppitable climes.

Gaze deep into yon golden eye!

The rumors were true!

2008-06-30T19:01:00.002-04:00

Math is hard.

It has been so MANY years since I've had to calculate anything. So, now instead of just struggling with regression, I'm also struggling solving equations. I swear this has been said a million times, but when am I going to use this?
Will I really need to transpose a matrix in my daily life?

(...not transpose THE Matrix, silly. That would be impossible.)

We love and hate the patio...

2008-06-29T00:00:00.006-04:00

...As we love and hate ourselves.

As mentioned, we moved approximately 13 butt-tonnes of material to make this shiznit happen. We had this long list of to-dos that precursed the actual construction of the patio:
clean the garage (once and for all),
get fences put in, get trees taken down,
push Stilgar into the garage so we could stack up 3 butt-tones of Pennsylvania Irregular Bluestone (what is this mysterious blue stone? it's not slate...) that we'd scattered around the yard years before.
All this in preparation, before we'd even begun the digging of the mudpit.

(note, this magazine article is not related to patios. It is about drywalling, which is an even stupider pastime.)

The long list of precursing ended with the item "GET HELP!" in caps, followed by an exclamation point.

Yet did we?
No, for we are glorious asses. What were we thinking? We are nincompoops and do things like throw our 13-year-old kitties onto gravel piles hoping for a funny picture and feeling bad afterwards.

Again...asses.

Let me amend - we are assish idiots. Do you have any idea how much some of these larger stones weigh? Much. Much, much too much to be arranging in neat patterns - picking up, putting down, flipping them, and then picking them up and putting them back in the pile.

We made a last minute decision to go with our original plan that included a firepit. Let me be clear: we love this firepit...it was the easiest, cheapest thing we've ever done to the house and we lurve it with all our ass hearts. We recommend firepits to anyone who enjoys fire. If you're human, that's probably you.

Yes, we have open flame close to scattered straw. Don't judge us.

These pictures don't do it justice. Having a stone patio has more than doubled our outside living space - yes, there's the lawn, but that's mostly dog poop and mosquitos. And it's just so pretty. When we're home and chillaxed, we sit on the deck, sip our coffee, and grin foolishly at our work. It is good.

Shanukah 2008, or "How I Spent My Economic Stimulus Check"

2008-06-22T14:19:00.004-04:00

Sigh...It was possibly the most lovely Shanukah yet: old friends, new friends, and beautiful creatures overnighted from Nova Scotia.

We had perfect weather, perfect company...and the second most fantastic cake ever:

(yes, that is a lobster in a party hat)

My fat-fat arms

2008-06-16T22:43:00.005-04:00

I love my arms, but lately, they've been growing.

Admittedly, I've upped my swimming quite dramatically. And I'm lifting a lot more these days...and suddenly, I can't fit into things that I've worn my whole life.

Yes. I did say that - I have two pieces of summer clothing that have been treasured staples in my wardrobe since my late teens when I stole them from my parents: a purple Dashiki (made by my mom for my dad), and a red sheath dress (made for my mom by her mom). I think each of these items is older than I am (which is now 34, by the way), especially since I think my grandma made the dress for my mom when she was pregnant with me or Jess.

So, these two things have fit me through thick and thin, on and off, for almost 20 years...and suddenly, they're binding on my massive biceps. Seriously, I am built (And thank goodness for that - we just finished a stone patio and realized that over the course of it, we moved about 13 tons of soil, stone, and gravel).

Goodness, they look larger in a photo. Man, I scare myself.

Home on the ...

2008-06-13T09:08:00.007-04:00

We spent most of my birthday evening handling sidearms.
This was new for me - I'm a long-gun kinda girl (I do love my Winchester "older boy's" rifle).

Handguns freak me the hell out.

I was all brave and stepped up to fire a 9mm Glock.
I was all proud until Lisa calmly shot Alexis's 357 Magnum revolver (which I will not touch).

Two stalls down, someone was shooting a 45. The boom on those things...makes me jump out of my skin. As we were leaving, I showed Lisa the giant shells - "next time," she said, "we'll take out that one!"

Oh no, not me baby - that shit is cra-zazy.

Visual puzzle!

2008-06-07T11:44:00.006-04:00

I pulled this out of the compost pile yesterday. I am ridiculously proud and think it's totally neato.

But what is it?
I think it looks a bit like a set of prayer flags.

This is one of the "flags" - what does it look like?

And this?

Answer: it's all the polyester parts of a pair of J. Crew cotton chinos. Everything else just rotted right out of it - including the cotton fabric from each beltloop.

I have compost fu!

Accordions!

2008-05-13T19:53:00.004-04:00

Lisa and I took a trip to Castiglione Accordions this afternoon.

We missed chatting with the heir to the Castiglione fortune (of accordions, at least), John, who warned me that his mother was ailing and he might not be available all afternoon. We did manage to hug some very sweet instruments:

Look at Lisa's new accordion - a green glittery number made by Gus Zoppi of Detroit. Boy does it sparkle!

Bunnies who get medicine...

2008-05-13T19:52:00.002-04:00

...are first wrapped in towels.

He's doing so much better: pooping and rampaging like a champ.

Kordax's close shave.

2008-05-01T23:10:00.002-04:00

Kordax is 11 years old.
He's old enough that the very nice veterinarian sharply sucked air through her grimacing teeth when I told her.
He's old enough that anything could happen at any time...a stroke, kidney failure, or one of his hopplepods could fall off.
He's like 143 in people years.

But he still brings the sass. Sass of such a volume and intensity that would seem impossible coming from his 900 gram frame...sass that recently includes the repeated violation of a brightly-colored, pyramidal dog toy that Alexis has taken to calling his partner.

That is, until he stopped eating. It was so weird, it happened all of a sudden and he didn't eat for days. His food bowl remained untouched and, obviously, he stopped pooping. This is BAD for a rabbit. Rabbits poop out a constant supply of pellets (which look suspiciously similar to the pellets going in), and he's always been especially good at pooping. I mean, he'd rest for a few seconds in one place on the carpet and there'd be, like, six shiny balls. Whatever. Pet ownership is all about handling poop (so, evidently is parenting)...if you have a pet, you know that already.

So the first day I didn't notice. The second day I did notice. The third day I got worried and the fourth, I freaked. I packed him into my ammunition hand bag and took him into the recommended small animal hospital (where the vet made the aforementioned grimace).

We'd read about gut stasis in rabbits.
Evidently, they can have an event that triggers them to stop eating, then they get bloated and constipated, then they really don't feel like eating. It is ridiculous...how does a species survive through such idiocy. It's like those fainting goats (which, according to a recent Times article, are tasty).

We brought him home with a baggie of pharmeceuticals, and now, at least three times a day, I give him the following:
Baytril (antibiotic)
Metacam (anti-inflammatory)
Reglan (for gastric motility)
and Critical Care - "a premium recovery food for herbivores"

I wrap him up in a little bunny burrito and start from one end of my fan of syringes. He's a very good sport.

The first night, he was peppier. And today he started pooping again.
I am beyond relieved, and I'll say here what I said to him: if I have to feed him by hand three times a day for the rest of his life, I'm all on board. He's my one and only bad little bun.

From the AFT (American Federation of Teachers) Blog

2008-04-02T12:50:00.003-04:00

April 01, 2008

MICHIGAN GRAD EMPLOYEES LIFT ALL BOATS

The Graduate Employees Organization/AFT at the University of Michigan pulled off a major coup last week, using a well-timed job action to convince administrators to reach a tentative agreement on a three-year contract. GEO members had voted overwhelmingly on March 22nd to execute a two-day walkout March 25th and 26th. This came five months into negotiations on a contract set to expire March 1, but that was extended twice.

On the morning of March 25th, graduate employees blocked the entrances to classroom buildings, and were first to arrive at two major construction sites, the Michigan Stadium and the Ross School of Business (I MARCHED AT ROSS!). Construction workers declining to cross the picket lines around these multi-million dollar projects quickly got management’s attention. So did shows of support for the GEO that came from faculty and students. UM went back to the table and before midnight, the two sides had come to an agreement.

At stake for the graduate student instructors (GSIs) were salary increases, health care and child care coverage. Seeking equity for all their members, the GEO membership emphasized the need to help one group in particular—those GSIs who worked the fewest hours and thus had the lowest income and fewest benefits to support them.

The final agreement featured:

**Salaries increases of 6.2 percent in the first year and 3.5 percent in the next two years. In the last year of the contract, the average GSI will make $17,395 for two semesters’ work.
**Increased mental health care coverage.
**Better health insurance coverage for all GSIs, even those working fewer than full-load hours.
**Full tuition waivers for all GSIs working 7.5 or more hours per week.
**More family-friendly policies, including increased childcare subsidies and six weeks of paid maternity leave.

For more about the settlement, go to www.umgeo.org.

*********
On Friday afternoon, we're headed to Detroit to march in solidarity with the American Axle workers, who've been on the line for 5+ weeks. I'm bringing (copies of) my mom's ancient songbooks, and have threatened my car that we're singing, damnit. I considered suggesting singing to the picketers, but I thought it would be too reminiscent of that Simpson's episode where Lisa gets the cheap braces, you know:

So we'll march day and night 'neath the big cooling towers.
They have the plant, but we have the power.

For the Axle workers, it's more like this song I found in "The People's Song Book":

I don't want your millions, mister;
I don't want your diamond ring.
All I want is the right to live mister;
Give me back my job again.

When I rock it...

2008-03-28T09:49:00.007-04:00

I rock it hard.

700 organized grad students (of which I was one)
+11 hours on the picket line
+ solidarity with the trade unions
+ screaming so hard I popped my eye
= fucking historic contract

Our work, our hand...

2008-03-24T22:47:00.002-04:00

We're going on strike tomorrow. I'm in the GEO offices, sound of tape and the smell of markers...I'll be up at 6am to picket the university work sites.

http://umgeo.org/

In the middle of sending out email after email, I checked the NYTimes and was reminded that the bats were dying.
The bats, good God the bats are dying and we're striking for childcare subsidies.

A tale of new kitties

2008-01-06T18:14:00.000-05:00

We were feeling a mite lonely over here at Bean Gables. I mean, we never thought we'd lose one of our kitties, and our house used to feel appropriately supersaturated.

Animals used to regularly precipitate out of thin air...
*pick up a pillow - there's a kitty!
*look under the couch, there's a rabbit!
*put down your seltzer...someone's head is stuck in the glass!

After Stoat got hit, the house just felt so empty. Though I wouldn't dream of "replacing" her, which is totally impossible, I felt like there was room for one more being on the bed.

After finals, I went to the local humane society and promptly fell in love with a 7-month-old fuzzy black kitty. I had no intention of going home with such a young one, but, well, his whiskers are so long they meet under his own chin. I cannot resist extravagent whiskerage.

He also has actually delightful ear and toe feathers, which is utterly charming. We got a little male because we hoped that Beast and Grex might like him more, since Beast's one and only love was Sarah's ancient ginger bruiser, Butterscotch. Maybe in the future there'll be less hissing, but right now it's a veritable viper's pit.

He's such a good one, he's so fluffy and easy to dandle. He has delightful wide eyes that change from green to brown, and the longest, most twirlable mustachios you've ever seen.

Alexis called him Trout, which is a surprisingly good name for a kitten. I'm on the verge of renaming him though...I'm settling around The Lesser Land Squid McCool. because he's obviously a terrestrial cephalopod, and not a very big one either.

'Scuse me ma'am, your cat asplode.

2008-01-04T22:56:00.000-05:00

Now will commence three stories RE: cats.

The first is called:
"World Cup 2006"

That Zabar, he's a crazy bastard of a cat.

We were wrapping up a New Year's visit to Chicago, during which I developed a mouth on me (I was surprised by the mister (not a Mister, like "hey mister, need a shine?," but that Legionnaire-vector that increases the water weight of your $7/pound kale) at Whole Foods and responded by screaming "God Damn Mother Fucker" and dropping my lettuce on the floor) and should have been kept consistently drunk. We were heading back into an unexpected (to us) snowstorm that done broke all the branches and clogged up the driveway.

We'd carried all the luggage to the car, and were coming back up for the three dogs (Crisfield, Oryx, and Molly, who we have home with us right now). The dogs were concentrated in the hall, waiting for us...Oryx yodeled, and Chrisfield danced to see us again, and Zabar placed himself directly in the center of the hallway, looking even larger and more menacing than his 18 pounds. Molly gave a skitter and Zabar had just fucking had it. He went Zidane on Molly's head.

Not a little angry paw bat, like cats do, but he launched himself at her head and kicked and clung with all his might.

Molly gave a low, distressed groan and sank to the floor. This is not the first time Molly's head has been attacked by a cat. Grex attacked when she first laid yellow eyes on that dog's grizzled muzzle - Molly must have a face that cats just can't stand. All the kitties say: "I see that dog and I just want to kick her lips off." But Grex only had claws for the dog...when we grabbed her, she only struggled to get back to rake the shit out of Mol. Zabar's different. Last time he freaked out at a dog, Sarah sustained a horrible injury, had surgery, and had intravenous antibiotics for weeks and weeks. So, nobody was going to touch that cat. Besides which, it's against the rules.

Alexis kicked him first, I swear to god.

Let's call it a "nudge." She "nudged" Zabar off Molly's face using her shoe. When Zabar rebounded to attack, she nudged a little harder, and the next time harder still.

I was washing dishes at the sink, and screamed "What the fuck is going on?! Fucking damn it!" and ran to see Zabar rolling past my feet, regain his footing and run, spitting, back at the dog. This cat is black and white and approximately the size and shape of a soccer ball, and this final time, Alexis passed the cat to me. I caught him on the edge of my boot, and dribbled him toward the dining room (bouncing him repeatedly because he just kept trying to attack). I gave a final, firmer, "nudge" and he slid on his silky fur directly into Slocum, the former alpha-cat. Poor Slocum.

So, you know the idiom "the fur is flying"? I never really understood it before. When Zabar turned his wrath on Slocum and the two started to rumble in a rolling, hissing, maelstrom, tufts of fur started appearing. The tufts would be thrown fiercely from the center of the rumble and then gently float to the floor, as if Zabar were performing some magic trick of pulling tiny white handkerchiefs out of Slocum's hidden pockets. Except the pockets were Slocum's flesh and the handkerchiefs were probably a bit bloody.

I'd had just about enough of this. Foul! I "nudged" them apart. And then apart again. And again. And finally, I "nudged" Zabar onto his back and pinned him there with my boot, which he bit. Um, gnawed at.

I called to Alexis to open the bedroom door and laced my hands behind my back to I wouldn't be tempted to use them. I let him up and immediately "nudged" him a few times in the right direction - around the corner and down the hall. Alexis was waiting to "nudge" him through the door and GOAL! OLE, ole, ole, ole! Slam.

We should try that with a real ball sometime.

Go-nali-pu?

2007-12-18T09:54:00.000-05:00

It was a long, intense finals period. I am, how should I put this, mentally mushy. I'd been holding up perfectly well through the paper, paper, paper, final, paper, but started to lose it just at the last moment - at 10:30pm last night, when my last deadline was midnight.

I hadn't left the house for days, hadn't showered in longer than that, and had spent about 12 hours a day (and two long nights all in a row) sitting and standing at the helm we built me in our new kitchen.

(We call it the helm because it seems like the center of the house, and exactly where you'd put the steering wheel if houses had steering wheels.)

So, as I said, all was going smoothly (well, as smoothly as possible considering I'd spent all of Sunday watching clips from the Daily Show and not writing the paper due at midnight the following day, and when I say all day Sunday, I mean all day Sunday...it's incredible how much time can pass in five-minute increments), and I was gearing up to write the very last section and the conclusion when Alexis asked me a question.

My response?

Something along the lines of go-nali-pu*.

(*This is not an accurate recollection, but suffice it to say that I spoke parts of each of the words I hoped to speak in sentence, though not the beginnings of the words (which might make sense), or even the words in order. Or, perhaps I spoke none of these things, and instead was riffing on my response...)

I was so shocked at what came out of my mouth that I started to laugh, then laugh harder, then I sank to the floor and peed on myself. Yes, folks, right in the corner of the kitchen rug, all in my lucky green cords that I've been wearing non-stop for days.

Then I cried, and I have to tell you - my tears weren't right, they stung and stung.

So - to recap:
I thought I was doing alright, but then I spoke gibberish for no reason, peed on myself and cried acid. Ah, finals.

Thanksgiving with the Tiny Bean

2007-11-28T13:23:00.000-05:00

After almost five days of staring at pudgy baby cheeks, my brain is sort of mushy...which sucks as finals period is coming right up.

Noah reserves a special sort of glee for his stuffed octopus. Seriously, his face just *lights up* when he sees it:

Flying baby.

2007-11-16T14:36:00.001-05:00

I don't know why, but he looks a bit like he's flapping his flying ears. And he's fairly surprised about it.

How it happens in my family:

2007-11-07T13:12:00.000-05:00

Mom said: "I'm sending you a picture of Noah reading."

I said: He's not really reading, mom.

Mom said: "Sure he is. Well, he's looking at the pictures."

(Please note: the kid can't even hold a book yet, and his family is forcing literature upon him! Someone set this child before a video game!)

Guess who...

2007-11-05T18:39:00.001-05:00

I get to see in a few scant weeks?

(almost a month, actually...sigh)

On the roof

2007-10-29T16:48:00.000-04:00

This guy leaves his household in the care of a petsitter, and half-way through his vacation, he gets an email. The subject is:
"Your cat's dead."
The guy is so upset, he emails back and says: "You can't break news to me like that! You should break it to me gently...first tell me that my cat's on the roof and you can't get him down, and then the next day tell me that the cat ran away, and then, only then, tell me that the cat is dead. I loved that cat, I raised it from a kitten."
He gets no reply for a few days, and then a response that says:
"Sorry about that last email. By the way, your dad's on the roof and I can't get him down."

*****

We've returned from Copenhagen for the first and probably last time. It's hard to tell this story without the whole of it. It's hard to make sense of the ending without the backstory - and the backstory is ugly: many players, many years, many drunken, violent nights, many hungry, fearful days.

How is a death so good as this? A man dies painlessly while doing something that he enjoyed, surrounded by friends and a loving second wife of twenty years, by children who were not his own, by step-grandchildren whom he taught to make palachinkas? We arrived and were so gracious, so sympathetic to his widow and his sister. They, suffering the loss of the everyday contact - the caring phone calls, and the loving embraces, the pleasant strolls - their tears are hot and insistent.

On this side, it's stranger and more twisted. Why them? Why did we rush across the ocean and sleep in exorbitant Danish hotels like guilty schoolchildren running in after last bell? Why did we pretend their pain was more important than ours? They'd had him. All those years that he was a nasty jackass, a distant, bad connection in a distant, bad accent, it turns out he was having birthday picnics on the Danish seaside with a little girl he claimed as grandaughter. Turns out he was spending the evening in pleasant conversation with an extended family of people we really liked and who really liked us. Did we miss some vital clue? How do you trust when one line is: "I'll take the children and hide them in Croatia, and you'll never, ever see them again," and the next is: "Eh, girls, come to Europe for summer vacation." When one line is: "Vlado, the fucking Americans are calling for money again," and the next is: "Will you help carry your father's coffin?"

The Polish priest welcomed us specifically in deliberate English, and we sat silent and apart during the never-ending Danish hymns, and Sarah and Alexis carried the middle - right and left - stumbling shuffling slowly with old men, and then he was gone, and then the bell tolled, and then we had terrible Danish coffee and heard how loving he'd been, how supportive, and we smiled and nodded and thought:
"Who?"

But you see, it's not my story. I mean it's really not my story, and it's not my question. I wonder it from the third person, I ask like it's one of those interesting family mysteries, and I hurt - not from the empty, final wonder of it, but from the shrapnel, the fallout, the mushroom cloud of shit that this man let fly over my own heart. I sit and bear witness, and I hold aloft in warm water, I listen, cheeks flushed with congenial drink to conversation around a dinner table, I kiss (three times) and hug and wave and wave to windows, but I know the story's not mine.

*****

So, the joke goes like this:

A young man goes away to school, and he meets a beautiful American girl with china skin. He woos her and gets her and they have two tiny daughters, sharp as tacks. The girls know lots of things, right from the beginning. Things like when to call the police, when to hide the wine, and when to call overseas and beg for grocery money. The father is gone, and the children are hungry and they are scared, but they grow anyway - they're afraid, but they're capable, and they make lives for themselves that are stable and safe. It takes years and years, but they are finally able to reach out, to try and find some thread of connection with this man, this father. They see the value in facing the pain of this history - these daughters are so smart and so brave, they visit, and he's an old man already. Too weak to hurt again. They think this is the start of something, not what they wanted, but enough.

But it's not the start, it's the end. The thing is, you don't recognize the end when it comes - it looks and feels like some new thing, like a second chance.

The end feels just like a beginning, and the beginning like the end...that's the joke.

Funny, right?

But what about our joy de vivre?

2007-10-17T21:44:00.001-04:00

Vladimir Gustav, aka "Alexis and Sarah's dad" suffered a massive heart attack on October 16th, Alexis's birthday. He was brought to the hospital where they resuscitated and cooled him, but when they warmed him up his brain function just wasn't there. The funeral is on Friday in Copenhagen, we're flying out tomorrow.

We saw him one year ago exactly...stayed with him in Zagreb, in his childhood home. He was a brilliant jackass, the embarrassing uncle, a man who made inappropriate jokes at the table and then sat smiling, smoking, and drinking - pleased with himself - while we rolled our eyes and shifted uncomfortably. He was a nonchalant father, taking Alexis on strange drunken camping trips, and letting her ride clinging to the top of the car on the way home. He was so hard and mean for most of his life...but by the time I really met him last year, he was soft and bleached and unintimidating - hopping on and off the city trams and gesturing with his pipe in annoyance.

How do you feel when this happens? You don't mourn the man, really, you mourn what the man could have been. I had planned to make Alexis make him drag us through Denmark, through France again, through more of his Croatian haunts. Who knew that you really do run out of time.

Who knew?

No, your other left...

2007-10-07T11:41:00.000-04:00

You probably know already that I have no innate conception of left and right. I mean, I understand the basic premise and, with some thought, can often come up with the correct answer; but in stressful situations - driving, giving directions, etc - I usually start off with the wrong option.

As you might imagine, this leads to great hilarity in busy intersections and at the end of drives (I once sent my sister the wrong way on my street after an 11-hour drive from Minneapolis, luckily she is both smart and suspicious enough to have questioned my assertion).

It turns out, Alexis has a similar block at airports. There's always been this thing about Arriving and Departing that we get into just as the road is splitting and we're blocked in by speeding rental car shuttles:

"We're arriving at the airport."

"No, you're departing."

"That's ridiculous, we are just getting here."

Now, this makes sense in a sort of literal interpretation of dialectic and temporal issues...perhaps things need to be more carefully described as if acknowledging the complex interplay of actors where A=arrive, and D=depart:

The dropper-offer = A(airport), D(for home)
The flyer-upper = A(airport), D(for afar)

and later...

The picker-upper = A(airport), D(for home)
The flyer-downer = A(airport), D(for home)

You know, it is more complicated than I'd originally suspected, all the routes save one are identical...yet the experience of each party at each moment is vastly different. This requires some sort of phenomenological, rather than discursive interpretation.

What I didn't suspect is that this alternative definition of arrive/depart would skew all further communication as the trip progressed. On the way back, standing in the airport, the good doctor was asked:

"Is Denver your final destination?"

"No, no," pause and slightly increased volume for clarity, since luggage was delayed on the first leg "I'm going to San Diego!"

All heads in the San Diego airport turn in confusion.

"I mean Detroit. Sorry."

*****

See, it's at these moments of juncture, when fast response is needed, that we're knocked slightly off the firm base of what we know we're supposed to think or say, and what's revealed is the fact that we haven't got a firm grasp of these modern conventions. Not a firm grasp at all.

Lookit my gorgeous sis!

2007-10-06T15:10:00.000-04:00

...and the No-bo traveling upright like a big kid! (Well, maybe not so big or so upright...he's listing considerably.)

It just ain't right...

2007-10-06T14:56:00.000-04:00

I volunteered to help with an event coming up that will pay for PhD applicants from underrepresented groups to come spend a few days checking out our program in the hope that they'll apply. Somehow I ended up on the team evaluating the 28+ people who're applying to attend this thing, and one of the criteria I'm evaluating is their GRE scores.

Let me repeat...I'm evaluating these poor folk's GRE scores when I myself *refused*, yes, *refused* to repeat the test-taking process. This doesn't seem fair.

This isn't news to my sister,

2007-10-02T13:04:00.000-04:00

but the resemblance is quite surprising.

He has extremely kissable cheeks. When I kiss them, he turns his head, narrows his eyes, and looks at me sideways and suspiciously. It is v. cute.

Our little kitty

2007-10-01T23:39:00.000-04:00

We are so terribly sad, and it lifts our hearts to know that Stoat was so well-loved.

We found her baby pictures:

(Do you see why she was called Sad-sad? Look at her eyes!)

(Caught on the couch chewing her own white tail tip.)

Coop kitten!
(Bethany used to communicate with Sad-sad using tiny kitten mews...it was the only thing that made her come out from under the bed!)

(She loved Cy's giant, stinky, twisted Birkenstocks.)

We miss you, you sweet and loving fuzzy funny thing.

And then there were five.

2007-10-01T11:11:00.000-04:00

Stoatle was hit by a car this morning. I looked out to see if there were painters in the driveway and saw her body and her white-tipped tail in the road directly in front of our driveway...she was headed home from some great adventure, no doubt. I wish we had photos.

We knew this, we've always known that animals die when you let them outside - we've discussed it and we knew. During the summer, Stoat refuses to stay in for any longer than she had to...she'd quack to come in, eat, then quack insistently to go out. She had grubbling to do in the driveways, she had pooping to do in the neighbor's flowerpots, she was her own cat.

We had her from a baby - Alexis heard her one afternoon while walking down State street. She was squeeking and beeping from under a bush, calling out, and when Alexis gave chase, Stoat ran directly into traffic...and Alexis ran directly after her. We brought her home and she slept in the collar of my nightgown for weeks. We named her Sad-sad, and she was a total hit - everybody at the Co-op wanted snuggle time. We had her from the beginning, and maybe this is why she's always been so happy, so self-assured, so purry and batty and rubby and loving.

We buried her in the vegetable patch I'd dug by the garage, in a nest of straw and with notes from us. We wanted to give her a toy, but she didn't play with toys really. The whole world was her playground, she didn't need toys.

This is the story of Sad-sad McGraw,
The saddest kitty you ever saw.
She lost her maw, she hurt her paw...
Went on a bender and broke the law.

You will be missed, my Strudle.

Mr. Tinypants II

2007-09-22T21:28:00.001-04:00

Noah looks like one of those baby dolls they sell in the back of women's magazines - perfect little fingers and a gorgeous little rosebud mouth!

But then, he wakes up, and he's like: "I have something to tell yoooooooo...."

I'm going to meet him next Wednesday - I honestly can't wait.

Note to self and sisters:

2007-09-18T08:38:00.001-04:00

If you're wearing a skirt, you can't see the pedals to get the clips on. This is not good and causes weaving and near-misses in traffic. Uncool.

Yesterday I called Tanya to wish her a happy birthday and at the climax of my yodling, squawking rendition, the voice-mail system thought I'd pressed a key...part of my song was the exact tone of, say, the star key. I had to start over.

Also, and perhaps most importantly, I am just aching to meet the little snicker-doodle. I can't believe I haven't held him yet - he's already over a week old! I've missed his crazy, space-traveler newborn eyes (I am so peeved about this), and rumor has it that he's already starting to pudge out. Baby pudge!

Oh, and Jess:

"Sweet Jersey Cow" Rice Pudding

1 c. Jasmine rice
6 c. whole milk
1/2 c. sugar
1 tsp. butter
1 something of salt
(then cinnamon, cardamom, mace, whatever)

Bring milk and other stuff to a LOW boil.
Add rice, and turn down heat.
Stir occasionally until done - but remember it thickens considerably, so...

stop cooking early!

We ride the Big Mac!

2007-09-16T20:01:00.000-04:00

BEFORE: It was freezing, and I was freaked!

DURING: Somewhere along the Lake Michigan coast. It was a lovely day, the course was relatively flat but surprisingly windy...making even downhills a bit of a push. I was not the only fat-ass biker, it was delightful!

AFTER: 25 miles and time for hot dogs. When Alexis was a youth, she biked ten miles and ate twelve hot dogs. I was expecting at least fifteen this time. Alas, we could only really handle one each...smaller capacity is a sad, sad sign of age and decrepitude.

We took the ferry to Mackinaw island and toured the fort - we heard cannons and rifles and listened to the staff musician go on at length about bugle calls. It rocked.

At six in the morning, we lined up with 398 other bikers and caught the dawn at the peak of the Mighty Mac bridge (50 years old this year). Again, freezing. After our ride, we lined up and waited to ride the slowboat back to the mainland.

400 bikes + 400 riders

Mutual admiration society

2007-09-14T12:29:00.000-04:00

(He looks like he's pausing thoughtfully before explaining the effect of the US credit crisis on Asian markets.)

How's school going?

2007-09-12T22:01:00.000-04:00

Fine, now that I've got my low-tech iPod.

I hear the ocean.

Duckling

2007-09-12T16:20:00.000-04:00

Okay, admit it - he's the most beautiful baby ever.
Lookit his little butt!

Please note:

2007-09-10T22:45:00.000-04:00

Babies come out of their pans easier if you don't overcook 'em.

(Don't worry, they serve up nice and plump.)

(It's funny that there's a time in our lives that all we have to do is eat, sleep, and poop...and then suddenly, we're attempting to wade through a bad translation of Karl Popper at 11pm on a Monday night. How does this happen?)

Noah - the littlest bean

2007-09-10T10:23:00.000-04:00

Look at his little blue hands and his little round belly!

He's out!

2007-09-10T07:58:00.000-04:00

At three in the morning, 9/10/07, Noah Edwin arrived. I can't wait to see the pictures of his pruney little face!

I've never had a new member of the family before, I am beyond excited and really much happier than I ever thought I'd be.

Jess was so peppy right until the due date (which was a week and a half ago), and she looked so beautiful through her pregnancy. I felt so surprisingly delicate and protective towards her when I saw her last - a way I don't usually feel about my 5'11" older sister - she thanked me for coming to help out, said it was so sweet to be doing so much for the baby...and I realized that it wasn't doing for the baby, it was for my sister. "I'm excited to meet the baby, but I knew you first."

I know I may eat my words when I see his little, pink, freshly-hatched body later this month...my bet is that I'm going to fall head over heels into nibbly, shnoogly love with that little steamed bun, and that I'm going to spend years of my life happily wondering about his filling - "Are you a barbeque pork bun? A red bean paste bun? Maybe lotus paste??"

But I say this to both of my shnizters: I like meeting the all interesting people we all find (or create) in the world, it's always fascinating...but I knew and loved you first - you'll always be my favorites.