This morning I woke up before the little man. I stumbled out of my room, intending to head straight down to the kitchen to brew up some coffee. But I was greeted by one of the cats in the hallway. The loud cat. Concerned that her yowling would prematurely wake the lad, I instinctively brought a finger to my lips to shush her…before my groggy brain could boggle at what I was doing. Yes, like Diablo Cody, I too am a crazy cat lady.
Bonus: Yesterday’s mail brought my copy of the Relief Digest from Rescue Magazine. My favorite feature…Bait and Tackle: Fishy Places to Hook the Look. But now I want a pair of Crocs, dammit.
Plus: Damien Jurado is playing the Turf Club tonight. I’d like to go, but I’m not sure I’d be able to stay up that late. So sad.

There’s something about this site that is reminiscent of “The Weirdest Book in the World” - The Codex Seraphinianus. Speaking of which…I really need to spend more time perusing my personal copy.

Some interesting news from Bookcrossing:

On 18th April, Alexander McCall Smith, Ruth Rendell, Philip Pullman, Tracy Chevalier, William Boyd, AS Byatt, Joanna Trollope and Doris Lessing are among thousands of readers and other authors who will release a book for Book Aid International.

And vaguely book-related…a librarian friend of mine sent me an email, saying she is going to be ordering an odd album for her library system…the Thai Elephant Orchestra’s release, Elephonic Rhapsodies. A bit about it:

Crazy as it sounds, much of the music on this strange and wonderful album is actually made by elephants, trained to beat drums, shake rattles and tap xylophones and gongs in something surprisingly close to a steady rhythm. American composers Richard Lair and Dave Soldier worked with the Thai Elephant Orchestra to create these charming, brief pieces, all of which are explained nicely in the liner notes and some recorded conversations. Curious but fun.

Hmmmm. In less unsettling music news, I’ve been commandeering the husband’s iPod mini on a regular basis, but I don’t want it to get all banged up in my bag. So I’ve been considering a foofpod. The dilemma, and it’s only a minor one really, which color and style should I get? There aren’t quite as many options for the mini, but those offered are pretty sweet.
Bonus: This is a place where no clouds go and my life as a cloud.
Plus: Awesome graffiti in the UP Factory, in Portland.

Last weekend was pretty action-packed. Early on Saturday we had a lovely birthday brunch for my father-in-law, and in the evening I went to see The Decemberists show at the Fine Line. I wouldn’t have been able to see anything really, if it weren’t for strategically placed monitors throughout the club. But my companion, who is 6′7″, had a clear view of everything, which I envied (but I am far more comfortable on airplanes than he is, so it’s a tradeoff). Anyhow, after the show we emerged from the club around midnight to find that:
a) we didn’t smell awful (it was the first smoke-free show I’d attended since the Minneapolis smoking ban went into effect) and
b) the streets and sidewalks were completely crowded. It had been so long since I’d been in the warehouse district on a weekend night…I’d forgotten about all the meat markets (clubs) in the area. Gawking at the outfits donned by some made for free entertainment, but also made me kinda-sorta wish I’d had on the official “I Hate What You’re Wearing” t-shirt.

Sunday saw even more activity. The little man and I went to lunch at Seward Cafe with a friend (whose birthday it is today - Happy Birthday Broccoli!), then later on headed to the home of other friends, with the husband in tow. The little man hung out with them (thank you Dave&HL) while the husband and I strolled over to the Lagoon Cinema. We both felt pangs of homesickness of a sort, of missing our former homes in Uptown, and the ease of walking from those homes to places of interest. There isn’t too much to walk to in our current neighborhood, aside from that one coffee shop that closes too early, a few lovely playgrounds, and, well, downtown St. Paul…if one has a half hour or so to spare. But I digress. Our destination Sunday afternoon was a theater playing host to an M-SPIFF selection. I can’t recommend Kontroll enough, though I am still thinking it through.

That was the weekend. This week has been much less fun. In fact it’s been grueling and frustrating for too many reasons to name. I’m hoping it will improve soon. Distractions always help, when one has time for them. A couple of years ago our cost-cutting measures included the cancellation of Netflix. But now that the husband and I both have shiny new jobs we’ve decided to splurge…and sign up for Green Cine. Our first selection is on its way. Oh sweet relief.
Bonus: For anyone in the area, Giant Robot is sponsoring the Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles from April 20 - 24 and the LA Asian Film Festival from April 28 - May 5.
Plus: June is the month in which we celebrate my birth (yes, all month long), and the birth of Zophia. This year we will be kicking it off in style with the Kaiser Chiefs show on June 1st, followed by the Neko Case and Her Boyfriends show on June 7th.
And: We’ve heard from someone on the inside that the Wedge Co-op may start carrying Chicago Soy Dairy’s vegan ice cream. I’m already craving the chocolate chip cookie dough variety.

Forgive me, it has been three days since my last post. If I were to write anything substantial at this point in time it would only be to outline the current frustrations in my life. Instead I will wait and attempt to atone…with a much more entertaining brain dump in the very near future.

Everyone is quite taken with the new Google Maps satellite images (myself included). And it’s spawned the latest flickr craze, the Memory Maps pool. Click on the image below to see a sampling of my own memory maps.

Speaking of tools…it’s been said that: “The single most important tool you’ll ever choose is your text editor.” At the new job I’ve begun using Vi to edit code, as that’s what my co-workers use…and I am getting more and more acclimated to it (I am partial to the “yank” command, probably because it’s fun to say), much to the husband’s chagrin. You see, he’s an Emacs user, as are many of our geekier friends. But let’s try thinking Vi and Emacs, rather than Vi vs. Emacs. If only to make my life somewhat less contentious.

Speaking of geeky stuff, Duluth’s Fourth Annual Geek Prom is being held tonight. Alas, I will not be attending as I’ve got a ticket to the sold out Decemberists show instead. Speaking of whom, they have some good news/bad news. Turns out the Portland Police have made some raids recently and have managed to recover some of their stolen equipment. The bad news…they aren’t sure which pieces, or what kind of condition they will be in after a spending a month in a meth lab. Ouch.
Bonus: Yesterday the Museum of Modern Art kicked off a Christopher Guest tribute series. Looks fabulous.
Plus: Speaking of tributes, this is a really well done ode to Sesame Street.
And: There is just too much going on lately. Adding another item to the list, this coming Tuesday evening Sarah Vowell will be reading from her latest volume, Assassination Vacation, at the U of M Bookstore.

This week I haven’t had any private time with my camera, and it’s starting to get to me. To the point that I’m even keeping track of missed opportunities.

• Just before sunset one evening, my long shadow stretched over the horizontal white bars of a crosswalk;
• One warm afternoon, a discarded winter coat, left to hang on the guardrail over the High Bridge;
• The little man, topless, save for his Batman cape;
• Multiple dragons motifs (on the walls, lamps, etc.) inside the Huong-Sen Restaurant.

Somehow I’m going to make some time this weekend, though we are already overbooked. Until then, below are some photos I managed to squeeze in last weekend.

“A kind of Spellbound crossed with Strictly Ballroom!”
This I gotta see.

Speaking of a tango, of sorts, on the way to work yesterday morning I was nearly sideswiped by a Lubetech truck. Not the way I’d want to go. Especially as the ‘L’ in the Lubetech logo was all loopy, like the ones embroidered on Laverne’s sweaters (as pictured below).

I did fare better on the drive home, at least. I’d finally remembered to grab the husband’s iPod (the day before the emptiness of our new FlexDock had been mocking me) and was happily driving along while listening to Mirah when I realized something. Whenever I hear Mirah now I think of Receptionista. It must be because I’ve heard her voice a bit, from her various audblog posts and the story she read on public radio weekend. They both have these amazing, resonant, sultry sounding voices. And they both live in the same corner of the country. So in my addled mind she and Mirah could be the same person. Or sisters at least.

Bonus: Pure genius. Christopher Ford Sees a Film (via Coudal).
Plus: With all The Incredibles viewage that’s gone on in our household, and the ubiquitous merchandise, and the little man re-enacting scenes daily, well, it’s nearly incomprehensible to me that there could be someone out there who hasn’t seen the movie yet. But my very own friend Dave (little one, not big) had not. In fact, he had been resistent to the idea for some reason. But recently he succumbed. And wrote me this:
“HOLY CRAP!” and “It’s awesome” and “I should have listened to you.”
Truer words were never spoken. Er, or written. Or typed.
And: More crafty consumerism. The Morning Craft shop has re-opened for spring, now with “a bizillion new items” and their “largest inventory yet” so check it out.

A good night’s sleep it wasn’t. At 2:49am the little man barged into my room, turned on the overhead light, and collapsed into my bed. Shellshocked I got up to turn off the light. When I stumbled back to bed I found that the lad had lain down, at an angle, with his head at the foot of the bed. I carefully arranged myself around him. At one point I woke up to find him perpendicular to me, his toasty little feet jammed into my ribcage. Throughout the night we rotated on the bed, like hands on the face of an analog clock. All the while he was snuffling miserably, trying to clear his congested nose. And refusing all offers of tissue and liquid medicines. I was too tired to insist.

In non-sleepless-in-St. Paul news, I wasn’t able to participate in March’s Month of Softies, but that doesn’t stop me from appreciating it. The theme was ‘Self-portrait of the Artist as a Young Child’ - below are some of my favorites:
Camille’s adorable softie
Adam Levine’s Halifax
David Huyck’s Superman
Orriettacat’s self-portrait (only she had eyes when she was a kid)

Bonus: Susie Ghahremani has just re-launched her adorable little web shoppe (via maganda). Oh the cuteness!
Plus: The fine folks behind Giant Robot magazine have opened their very own restaurant, in Los Angeles. All week they’re celebrating the grand opening of gr/eats with special gifts provided by Converse, PF Flyers, Uglydolls, Galaxia, Touch & Go, and Matador records. And it looks like the menu (pdf) even has vegan options.

Lately I’ve been simultaneously over and underwhelmed by life. It was a cranky kind of weekend around these parts, spent recovering from a crappy week…one in which I visited our urgent care clinic three times. Sure, once was a quick stop, just to pick up the little man’s immunization records, but the other two times royally sucked. And Saturday night the husband attempted to see Kung Fu Hustle without me, but was foiled…foiled! Because film fest screenings, especially weekend ones, sell out quickly (instead he saw Sin City). Hopefully we’ll be able to catch Kontroll together next weekend. Speaking of next weekend…there is much going on, including The Decemberists show (too bad it’s at a sucky ass club) and an interesting looking mask and dance production based on work by one of my favorite graphic novelists, the Norwegian Jason. For now, I’ll have to focus on getting through this week…while feeling like crap.
Bonus: Last week it was Anansi Boys…now it’s another teaser chapter, this time from the upcoming Jonathan Strange sequel (of sorts). I don’t know if I can take this sort of temptation from my favorite authors.
Plus: I owe emails to about a dozen or so people and I’m terribly sorry and I’ll try to get to them soon.
And: This just sucks…the bass player from Guitar Wolf, Hideaki Sekiguchi (a.k.a. Billy) has died of a heart attack at age 38.