Blasted machines. Color me frustrated. Spent much of the morning composing a very long post…about events leading to and just after my birthday, including a couple of days in a treehouse (with a whirlpool) in Duluth, and the best gift ever that happens to be the weirdest book in the world. But it was all lost. I swear I’d been saving. Repeatedly (should have been using pico instead of flipping notepad). Yet when this beast crashed it took my beautiful post down with it. All right, maybe it wasn’t beautiful…but it was certainly well researched. I may try to recreate it…when I’m feeling more energetic. And less frustrated. For now, the Duluth photos are available for viewing…without the backstory. Sigh.

What’s going on? When I was growing up I could always rely on beautiful weather for my birthday. Sunny skies, temps in the seventies, no humidity. Now there’s global warming to contend with. Heat, humidity and hordes of mosquitoes arrive much earlier in the season than they have any right to. But that’s not all that’s changed. Used to be I couldn’t wait for my birthday to come. But today it’s birthday with a capital B. Or perhaps BIRTHDAY, maybe even in blinking fuschia text. It will not be ignored. It just doesn’t seem possible that I’ve celebrated thirty of these already…not that I remember the first two, maybe three. I can try to talk my way around it…I certainly don’t act like I’m thirty. People tell me I don’t look like I’m thirty (but I can try to have some of the grace and guts of Frances McDormand, and tell people “this is what thirty looks like”). But maybe I’m best off quoting my dear old Dad, whose birthday it also is today. Every year he has two things to say of our birthday:
1. “Honey, you’re the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten” and
2. “It’s better than the alternative.”

Over the weekend I did more lounging than laundry…or anything else. But on my brief breaks from said lounging, I spent a little time optimizing my batch of photos from, and writing about, the previous weekend’s trip to the big city. Thankfully I made a few notes to myself…otherwise all would be lost. As I’m luging my way towards thirty (tomorrow, geesh) I’ve found my short and long-term memory suffering. And it’s only downhill from here. But I still remember how to have a good time. I’ve broken the NYC experience into two sections, a photo gallery and a long-winded recounting of the weekend. Enjoy.

On any given Saturday there can be a huge difference between me being out of bed, and actually being up and awake for the day…as the little man can surely attest to. I knew that girls’ night out would render me useless today. And when I mentioned this to J he was quick to agree. A little too quick. Thanks. But it was worth it. A grand time was had by all. Once I’ve properly recuperated I’ll post the promised NYC stories and photos. But for now more lounging is in order…interspersed with some exciting laundry-warshing.

And we’re back. Again. I posted a brief entry upon my return from NYC on Monday, with plans to expand and expound the following day. Only to have the hosting server crash. While the admin was out of town, speaking at some perl conference. Efforts to restart it remotely failed. Just my rotten luck. So all week I’ve been compulsively checking the server’s status…only to find it’s back up and running just now, as I am about to head off to bed. I could be even more compulsive and stay up far too late formatting and posting the pix and other NYC content. And under normal circumstances I would, honest. But I have to conserve my energy. Tomorrow night is girls’ night out. Again. And this time it’s personal. Or something. So instead I’ll post a couple of things of note for now. First off, Jay Gilligan (everybody’s favorite modern juggler), has an upcoming show…at a space I’m only familiar with as being the former location Fuji-Ya restaurant. Hopefully Jay has more space to work with there…it’s got to be larger than the shoebox-sized theater at Bryant Lake Bowl. Secondly, when I was skimming my caughtspam folder I came across a call to arms from the locally-based Ministry of Cultural Warfare…or at least a summons, directing me to ‘waste time at work with MoCW movies‘. Haven’t gotten a chance to yet, but Tiny Kitten Theater sounds intriguing.
‘These weird little parodies of some of the 20th century’s greatest films are acted out entirely by Louise The Cat.and a few humans.’
Thirdly, everyone’s favorite chanteuse, Neko Case, is coming to town soon with the New Pornographers. And it’s not a Clear Channel event. Phew. Finally, I’ve come across yet another collaborative/collective art project to obsess over for a bit. Project Button explores the question ‘What can you fit on a 1″ round button?’ and anyone and everyone is welcome to answer. It is likely I will do so…but only after pulling together and posting my NYC package. For now, nigh nigh.
Note: just as I was about to post this, the server went back down. Doh. But now it is, allegedly, back up for good. More updates shortly. After girls’ night out, of course.

Home now. NYC was awesome. I’ve much to report, and many photos to post. Soon. But just one question…what the heck happened? I left here Friday morning in sunny springtime…and returned this afternoon to sweltering summer. Geesh. So to ameliorate the madness somewhat, I declare it is now time to soak my barking dogs in the wading pool…if the little man so allows. More later.

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for you. The little man and I woke up early this morning, and in excellent moods. On the drive to pre-school we passed a co-worker of mine, who was riding his bike. The little man’s been pointing out bikers as it is, especially noting the ones who wear helmets, like he does (yes, I have him wear a helmet while riding his trike). But when I waved to the biker, and he waved back, well, apparently that was just about the coolest thing ever. He was a little sad when we headed uphill and left my coworker behind. But he’d recovered nicely by the time I dropped him off. We arrived early enough that the girls weren’t there yet…so he was able to get into the playhouse without incident. He immediately donned a floppy straw hat and pink backpack, and began pushing around a stroller with a baby doll in it. Naturally I’d left my camera in the car. Doh. The upside, I did catch an early bus, and rode in chatting away with a librarian friend of mine. It was much less stressful than yesterday’s white-knuckled drive. I’ll admit, I actually like riding the bus. And now that I’m in the office, I’m happily listening to shared music via iTunes. My coworkers have excellent taste in music. Scrolling through the selections is like taking a stroll down memory lane. Alt-rock of the mid-90s seems to be especially represented. Been listening to Frank Black’s “Headache”, Sonic Youth’s “Bull in the Heather”, some Sunny Day Real Estate and plenty of Pavement. But “Web in Front” by Archers of Loaf is my earworm of the day. “I’ve got a magnet in my head. A magnet in my head.”

The morning was off to another suckass start. We overslept. The little man looked as cranky as I felt. He insisted on wearing a polar fleece balaclava on the way to school (though it was a muggy 70ish degrees when we left the house). After dropping him off, hatless, I headed to the bus stop. Then chased the bus for blocks. But still missed it by about 45 seconds…just the right amount of time and distance to watch it head for the highway. Rather than waiting half an hour for the next one I opted to drive to work. Through the construction zones. To shell out the $10 “early bird” parking rate. Eventually I arrived to work…and realized that I hated the outfit I’d thrown on. And that the humidity helped to make my hair look even more like ass. Stupendous. Entering day four of a futile quest for the perfect bag (large enough to hold my digital SLR camera, phone and other necessities but much smaller than my over-sized messenger/diaper bag) did nothing to improve my mood. The only ray of sunshine in an otherwise dismal day was an email from an old friend. She now lives in Brooklyn. And has welcomed me to crash at her place for the weekend. I’m hoping that by then my hormones won’t be so out of hand…and I’ll be feeling significantly less snarky. Ah, the wrath of Aunt Flo.

Well, I’m making it happen. I’m off to NYC next weekend. The little man will be staying with his father while I’m away. My airline tickets and film festival pass have been purchased. Reservations have been made at an ultra-cheap and centrally located youth hostel. And I’ve been in research mode, scouring Timeout and other sources. Trip-planning totally triggers my OCD. I’m making lists and checking them more than twice. I’ve already acquired a laminated Manhattan streetmap, and have been busy plotting routes from the hostel to the festival, and from the hostel and festival to a variety of vegan-friendly restaurants. Many within walking distance. On my list are Kate’s Joint, Teany (the Moby-owned teahouse that serves vegan vanilla-bean strawberry shortcake, mmmm), Hangawi (a vegan Korean restaurant), Angelica Kitchen, Candle Cafe and perhaps VP2 or VP3. I plan to stroll around St. Mark’s Place and Tompkins Square Park, check out Chinatown, and to stop by the International Center for Photography, if there’s time. Wouldn’t mind catching a show, especially as CGBG’s is across the street from my lodging, but I know nothing of the bands that will be playing during my stay…and their names don’t exactly pique my interest. Endangered Feces anyone? Nah, I didn’t think so. But I may catch one of the latest buzz bands, Electric Six, at the Bowery Ballroom. Just five more days to departure. Let the countdown begin.

I wonder if the previous owners of my house ever drive by. If they do, they must shake their heads in disgust at how badly I’ve let the yard go. It’s like Wild Kingdom out there. I don’t foresee it improving any time soon…but J did borrow his Dad’s chainsaw. In an attempt to force back the advancing armies of scrub trees that have sprouted up everywhere…through the fence, in the sandbox, next to the house, through the porch, etc. But they are ferocious foes…several times in their last stand did they cause the chain to fall off of said chainsaw. Yet amidst all this chaos there is beauty. I’m particularly taken with the wildflowers that have popped up…called Dames Rocket. Hopefully this year J will refrain from mowing them down as he cuts the grass (thank you J). And when we’ve gotten our strength up, perhaps we’ll wage a war on the weeds. Btw, don’t you just love how I use the collective “we” when I really mean just J? Yeah, he loves it too.