Sounds like sort of a bad year for Burning Man. After several accidents, there’s been a fatality. I think Elim sums it up well: “drunk people, ArtCar, Night, do the math. The fact that it hasn’t happened in 7 years or so is remarkable.”
In better news, Ted Leo’s next album is slated to come out October 7th. Just listened to an mp3 on Lookout’s site, for “The Sword in the Stone”. Here’s to hoping he’ll swing by Minneapolis soon. I missed him in March due to my own lameassness. Won’t make that mistake again.

The little man sure knows how to stir things up. We’d been having another quiet afternoon when he came running up to me, waving his arms excitedly, trying desperately to convey something important about “the light”. Doubting he was having any sort of epiphany, I ran off in the direction he indicated…to find something more tangible. He’d knocked over the living room lamp…causing the bulb within to shatter. My first thought, naturally, was for the safety of our destructive monkey. But it seemed we were already too late. He appeared to have a cut on one of his cute little feet. J whisked him up to the bathroom where I rushed to pull out the antiseptic. While cleaning out the wound I noted the “blood” was wiping off in an odd way, and appeared to be more magenta than red. It took a moment to register…that it was fingerpaint from earlier in the day. Doh. False alarm. I kept the monkey safely occupied upstairs so that J could clean up the remains of our fancy light bulb…an energy efficient number that was supposed to last five or ten years (I doubt this incident will be covered by the warranty). Afterwards J wryly noted that the bulb cost more than the IKEA lamp it had been residing in.

And we’re back. Continuing our low-key Labor Day weekend in St. Paul, after a brief break elsewhere. My in-laws have a little place up North. But not *too* far North. Even with the Friday/holiday traffic we arrived in under two hours. I’ll admit I was a bit apprehensive. The husband, whose descriptive abilities are lacking, had been up there just once…so I was still in the dark after attempting to pick his brain. But it was quite pleasant. This particular piece of property is in a more secluded section of a large resort village. There are nearby neighbors, but it’s also bordered by woods and swamplands. It was quiet and peaceful, but not *too* relaxing. There’s never a dull moment with the little man around. I’d packed enough diversions to distract him for a decent chunk of time, but his curiousity would get the better of him. We were constantly shouting “NO!” in an attempt to keep him from injuring himself or others. Still, we all had a lovely time…and managed to lounge and laze and graze. Even got in a good game of Trivial Pursuit (Genus IV edition). Hadn’t played that in a decade or more…but J and I would both like to pick up a set. Amazing that we agree on this matter. Game play has been a sticking point in our relationship, especially as J will so rarely concede to play Scrabble with me. True, we have other games. But I can only play so much Uno. And the Tick board game is unnecessarily complicated to set up. Lost Cities is too simple…or something. And our Powerpuff Girls board game…well, maybe it would be less boring if we were eight years old. So Trivial Pursuit it is, as soon as we get a set.
Items forgotten at home: sparklers; cell phone recharger; vitamins; and my hairbrush.
Items left behind: our picnic blanket; the book I’d just begun reading (”Blindness” by Jose Saramago); and a clear view of the night sky.

Tomorrow marks my one year anniversary with my camera, an Olympus C-4040. I’d been wanting to upgrade for a while, and was given the perfect excuse when my former Olympus D-340L unexpectedly fell apart (after falling down a flight of stairs). Before the fall the old camera had been doing all right by me, but lacked a few features I’d been longing for. The C-4040 was love at first sight. Super-bright lens, optical zoom, 4.1 megapixel, digital SLR (great in low-light situations), quicktime video capture with sound…and we’ve had a wonderful year together (though I’ve learned to keep my yap shut when videotaping the little man…there’s nothing more irritating than hearing the shrill sound of my own voice when trying to enjoy video of the boy). This month alone I’ve managed to post seventy+ photos taken with it (including the 26 things gallery) here, and many more to my son’s photo album. I guess underemployment is good for my productivity. Or prolificness, rather.

Something led me to Slatch this morning…don’t remember what. There I discovered two tasty tidbits. First, Season 3 of Mr. Show is now available on DVD. Second, something only David Cross and crew could come up with…the 1st Annual (or maybe never again) Tinkle Booze Cruise. Sorry folks, the event already happened. And it was a sold out success, naturally. In other news…I’ve been making regular submissions to Lalaland for a while now. But I was confronted with so many choices when looking to capture this month’s theme. To simplify matters, I focused on objects found within the Children’s Museum…settling on something we unearthed in the earth world exhibit.

I saw the signs today. Two of the less auspicious signs, mind you. The first, found at the playground, seems to indicate that no sumo wrestling is allowed there. Sensible, I suppose…but the place is surfaced with that great squishy material that easily absorbs any impact. The latter was found right in front of my house. It caught my eye as I was walking to the door. I looked down and thought it might be one of those pillow tags one isn’t supposed to remove. Rather it seems to indicate a low tolerance for truss cutting, whatever that is. I dare you to try saying “do not cut truss” ten times fast.

Two things. First, one of the girls informed me of some wackiness happening in town next week. The Design Institute at the U of M is sponsoring “a citywide game that turns the Twin Cities into a 108-square mile giant game board”. I doubt the little man and I would have the wherewithal to engage in game play, but we’ll likely be involved as spectators.
Secondly, why is Minneapolis so often overlooked? Too frequently it seems we get skipped over by bands on tour *and* for independent film distribution. I just found out that, after an undue period of time in limbo, Bubba Ho-tep is finally seeing the light of day. So far a limited theatrical release is scheduled…with the promise of more cities to be added soon. Please please let that include the twin cities. About the film…well, first off, does it get any better than Bruce Campbell? I sure don’t think so. But the award-winning Ossie Davis also co-stars in this movie that is a mix of genres…comedy, action, horror, drama, rock’n'roll.
“Bubba Ho-tep tells the ‘true’ story of what really did become of Elvis. We find the King (Bruce Campbell) as an elderly resident in an East Texas rest home, who switched identities with an Elvis impersonator years before his ‘death’, then missed his chance to switch back. Elvis teams up with Jack (Ossie Davis), a fellow nursing home resident who thinks that he is actually President John F. Kennedy, and the two valiant old codgers sally forth to battle an evil Egyptian entity who has chosen their long-term care facility as his happy hunting grounds…”
Intriguing, no? The trailer is available on their site, in Small, Medium and King Size. Clever.

One of J’s throng of sisters had a fine floral arrangement sent to us yesterday. I don’t remember the last time we had flowers in or out of the house (which reminds me, must plant tulip bulbs before first freeze) but they are a most welcome addition. As for J’s family…I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but these folks are delightfully different from mine. At first I found their reticence a little alarming, but have since grown accustomed to it. Some of them are a little low-key, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Secondly, there are so many of them. Multitudes of aunts and uncles and cousins…it’s sometimes hard to keep ‘em straight. And J has two living grandfathers! It’s been a couple of decades since I had just one. J’s adorable maternal grandparents, married forever and a day, are up from Florida for a few weeks. This weekend, it seems, they are heading even further North…to a cabin owned by J’s folks. I’ve had an open invitation to visit for some time now. But the thing is…I’m a city girl, through and through. Never been camping in my life. My idea of roughing it is having to share a hotel room with others while vacationing, or sleeping on someone’s floor when visiting friends in other cities. J has taken photos of his parents’ cabin to prove to me it has running water and all the amenities, and claims it isn’t far from civilization. So I’ve finally acquiesced, agreeing to venture there this weekend. But really…seven people and one bathroom? I sure don’t like those odds.

We have the distinction of living within two miles of the RiverCentre…which is hosting a visit by Bush today. This is causing our usually overlooked enclave to be teeming with visitors. Mostly boys in blue in marked and unmarked squad cars. They certainly aren’t out busting traffic offenders (saw one person run a stop sign right in front of a parked squad). Instead they seem to be guarding our bridges and the like. Overhead the skies are being patrolled by noisy helicopters. One was hovering right over my backyard for an extended period of time, while I was eating lunch on my deck. If they really need to know, it was a highly suspect grilled soy cheeze sammich with tomato soup. I had been planning on taking the little man down to the Children’s Museum this afternoon, but with all the extra company downtown we may just wait until tomorrow. It’s within walking distance of Bush’s location and it might be a hassle to get through that extra security. Which has me wondering…who is footing the bill for these extra forces? Are the funds drawn from federal taxes or local? If it is local, then I’m going to be extra-irate. In Minneapolis this week public libraries and beaches are closed, giving their employees a mandatory one week vacation *without* pay. I realize the Bush visit is happening in St. Paul, but I’d much rather send money to our sister city to support worthwhile activities instead of blowing this wad unnecessarily on Bush.

We seriously need walkie talkies. I can’t imagine the husband ever having, or using, a cell phone, but we’ve encountered many situations where such a device would have been helpful. I have two such examples to highlight from last evening.
Example the first: on our way to the Deerhoof show, J needed to stop by the eye institute to pick up another round of anti-rejection eye drops. Pharmacy closes at 6…he ran in around 5:30, leaving us to wait in the car. I’m all right with waiting. Usually. Better if I know how long I will be waiting, or if I have something to keep me distracted. Something, that is, other than trying to keep a hyperactive preschooler in the car. I kill some time trying to capture a decent mirror project shot of the little man and I…in one of the sideview mirrors. He finds that amusing. But then he gets bored and starts spitting water out the window. I don’t find that nearly as amusing. So almost a half hour goes by. No sign of the husband. I get antsy. I hop into the driver’s seat, moving us from the side street to the patient drop-off driveway. Even more frustrating. The windows are all reflective glass so all I could see was myself looking antsy, knowing the husband had disappeared somewhere within the labyrinthine structure before me. After an eternity (and after the pharmacy has closed) the man finally emerges, wherein I attempt to point out the need for alternate communication devices…as we have not yet honed our telepathic abilities.
Example the second: after arriving at Loring Park, our little group split up twice. Before Deerhoof played I left the boys in the playground area so that I could go stake out our spot. Not too far from the stage that we couldn’t see the band, but not too close that the little man’s eardrums would rupture. I laid out our picnic blanket and assorted goodies and waited. After a time, the boys arrived and all was good. Later, after the excellent Deerhoof set (which the little man was mostly interested in and well-behaved during…aside from hitting me in the face with a large rubber snake) I decided to stay, to hang on to our prime piece of real estate, while the boys went back to the playground. Arriving early has its advantages. Then the most wondrous thing happened. The sky turned into cotton candy. It was the best sunset I’ve seen in years. The way the pink-orange light filtered over the park was amazing. I snapped off a few photos, but they don’t even begin to do it justice. But as the sky grew darker I started to experience some acute separation anxiety. Probably based on primitive maternal instincts, but when darkness falls I need to know where my baby is. And yeah, I knew where he was. A little ways over, at the playground. But I couldn’t *see* him. If we’d had a way to communicate, J would have been hearing me loud and clear. I was coming close to ditching our spot just as the boys ambled back to me. Phew. We managed to stick it out for the beginning of Rocky…but the boy was obviously tired and unable to find a comfortable position, opting instead to repeatedly steamroll over me. And J’s back was bothering him. So we gathered our gear and walked out of the park…a complete unit, the little man holding each of us by the hand.