I’m still here. In fact, we’re doing nearly nothing over this long holiday weekend. I’ve just been feeling sort of…blah. Uninspired and milquetoast. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s all the random noise bursts in my overactive brain. I do have several partially written posts saved, but I can’t quite get them to the finish line.
But I did wake up from a strange dream this morning. I had been shot. Just above my left hip. By whom, I have no idea. It was at night and I’d been driving East down a major street when I thought I was driving West. The whole dream was like that, all topsy turvy and turned around. The emergency room “scene” was played on fast forward and suddenly I found myself bandaged up and at my Dad’s house. Only his house had moved, to a small island with a lighthouse. And I was holding someone’s newborn baby, but I don’t know whose. It was definitely not mine. I handed her back to a stranger and announced that I needed a ride to the airport, stat, as I had to catch a flight to Europe that afternoon. Alone. I asked my Dad if he could take me, but he shook his head sadly and said no. My brother, who was alive in this scenario (and looking like he did in 1988, pre-leukemia), chimed in and said he could do it, no problem. And then I woke up. What a weird way to start the day.
June has been my month of live music shows, which has been wonderful, but between the staying out and up late, and the little man’s summer break…well, we’ve sort of inadvertently time-shifted our days forward. It’s because I don’t have the pressure of getting him to the bus stop. Deadlines do motivate me. Without them things get a little bit freeform. Yesterday morning I didn’t roll out of bed until 9:30am. The little man had gotten up a couple of hours before, but he is neither subtle nor quiet so I was half-awake. And half-aware of what he was up to (mostly going all Star Wars Kid, with his multiple light sabers). But today was a work day, and my human alarm clock didn’t wake up until 7:30am, which is considerably later than usual. Not sure why he felt the need to sleep in today, but I wish he’d get with the program and do that on weekends instead. Oh well.
When I arrived at work this morning there was an anonymous gift waiting for me, in a brown paper bag. My first thought/concern was, hmmm, something from Sex World? Or something not vegan? Or possibly something that was already mine, just wrapped up? After all it did say “lame gift” right on the package. But it wasn’t lame at all! It turned out to be a cute little ceramic cup, decorated with beckoning cats, from my pals Chuck and Lori. I loves me some Maneki Nekos!
Bonus: I’ve dearly missed the old 42short, but that’s no excuse for me not to visit the more abbreviated seen heard read more regularly. So it’s my own fault that I’ve only just discovered James is making a big move, from North Carolina to Maryland. But it will bring him closer to family. Good luck James!
Plus: Also moving closer to family? Well, it was a big decision to reach over at Milk and Cake, but really, it sounds like it will be a huge relief. Plus it means I have even more incentive to plan a trip to Seattle sometime in the near-ish future, which is most excellent.
And: At long last, I’ve finally updated the recipes page. There are only three new recipes, but more are in the works, I swear.
I have high hopes for 33. My gut feeling is that, overall, it will be a much much better year than 32 was. And I kicked it off well. We had a lovely dinner with family Saturday night, and it was fabulous having friends over yesterday afternoon. The husband and I topped things off last night by going to the Triple Rock for The Sound the Hare Heard tour. Unfortunately it was the saddest show ever. More people turned out for my BBQ than did for the show. The club was so very deserted. Even though we arrived over an hour after the door time we were able to score a spot in the parking lot (unheard of!) and there were still barstools available near the stage (and even more empty ones available after we sat down). Lauren Hoffman opened and announced it was her first time in Minneapolis. With that sort of reception I’m not sure she’ll ever want to come back. We mostly went to see Thao Nguyen, who was very energetic with a great stage presence. She and her backup band were great, and worked the room as well as they could. I’d say it was a tough crowd, but there was no crowd at all. We would have stayed on for Jeff Hanson, but he was playing last. When Southerly took the stage (and no offense to him) the husband and I decided we’d rather head home, as it had been a rather long day. But with literally just a handful of people at the show we felt badly about walking out, because it would have been oh so obvious. Instead we came up with a little ploy. First I went to the women’s restroom. A minute or two later the husband went to the men’s room. And then we quietly bailed. But we wonder, did the Triple Rock have a hand in setting our fate? After all, they did stamp “Go Away” on our hands.
Bonus: Random quote of the day from the little man: “If you fall on your butt that’s fun!”
Plus: Missed Coney Island’s Mermaid Parade yet again. Thank gawd for flickr.
And: I’m starting to feel my years. Yesterday someone asked me what I’d done on my birthday the year before. I completely blanked. Later I had to resort to looking it up in my blog archives (one of the many reasons I started keeping a blog years ago). I can’t believe I’d forgotten it. Last year the husband, the little man and I drove to Madison for the weekend, and I was able to see my beloved Andrew Bird perform in an overcrowded little club. So two birthdays in a row I saw live music, but the settings couldn’t have been more different.
My body seems to have a mind of its own. Often, when a particularly busy weekend is coming up, it will take preemptive action, usually by giving me a big eff you. Though things started out well enough yesterday. The little man and I had an excellent field trip, out in Stillwater, visiting the new Teddy Bear Park, the co-op, and an independent bookstore. Afterwards we’d planned to continue on to the YWCA, to go swimming. But the lad wanted to stay home and chill. Fair enough. So he stayed with the husband while I went to work out. On my way back I picked up takeout from Evergreen for the three of us. After dinner I read the little man a few Frog and Toad books. By his bedtime I was inexplicably exhausted. Around 9pm I thought I’d just have a little lie down. Before I knew it it was 9am this morning, and I could barely get out of bed. The first thing I noticed, my eyeballs were aching. But so was the rest of my body. It is doubtful that I will be engaging in any extracurricular activities today. But there are two action items that are not optional. One, cleaning this filthy house top to bottom, as we are having friends over tomorrow. Two, going out to dinner with family this evening, to celebrate my birthday (which is tomorrow). I’m hoping the ibuprofen kicks in soon. Sigh.
Just a sampling of what I’ll be missing this weekend:
Bonus: I may be feeling absurdly crapulent, but this fantastic photo of Andrew Bird has cheered me up a bit. Speaking of flickr photos…interesting-ness has always been an absolute mystery to me. I have one recent photo in particular, of the little man, that fluctuates like crazy. Yesterday morning it was in third place for June 16th, and then it dropped a few hundred places. Wash, rinse, repeat for this morning. (Wouldn’t have noticed at all but I was invited to add the photo to this pool.) Go figure.
Plus: After watching the new Superman trailers I can’t help thinking Brandon Routh looks an awful lot like Jason Schwartzman. All right, a little googling shows I’m not the only one who thinks this, but still.
And: Rachel is at a conference in Seattle. So far she has encountered a street vendor selling veggie hot dogs, she scored a National Death Index ruler, and she switched from an icky hotel to a really swank one. Sounds like an excellent trip to me. One of these days I’m going to have to get out there. I’ve been jonesing for a vacation in general, and the little man has too. Hmmm.
And another thing: If you don’t skate, you can’t relate.
After hearing tales from friends with daughters I have, on more than one occasion, been guilty of nodding knowingly while saying: boys are easier. But boys will be boys. Earlier this evening the husband and I were in bed, watching a DVD (disc 2 of an Italian miniseries that I am hopelessly hooked on) on his laptop. I heard the little man get up to go to the bathroom, as he sometimes does at night. No big, right? But something seemed…off. Mother’s intuition prompted me to get up. I opened our bedroom door and looked down the hall. The boy wasn’t in the bathroom. I stepped out and flipped on the hall light. A noise gave the lad away. He was in the computer room. There I found him, standing upright, with his little white butt glowing in the dark, while he peed under the husband’s desk. Doh! He had no idea what was going on. I led him away to the bathroom before getting him settled back into bed. In the meantime the husband had run downstairs to grab a bucket and mop. After the poor man finished cleaning up he said “well, at least he didn’t try to poop on my computer chair.” Ever an optimist, that one.
Sure, I could give the usual rundown, what I did last weekend and with whom. But all that can be gotten via flickr, really. And sometimes I just get into a naturally tripped out frame of mind, which causes me to lose my focus. Being the little man’s mother encourages this. Recently he informed me that, when we’re on the freeway, our little car is actually travelling through a GIANT turtle (not unlike the tiny humans in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, I guess - a movie which neither of us has actually seen, thankfully). And that when we exit the freeway we are either a) being spit out by said turtle or, and this is lovely, really, b) being pooped out. You know, depending on what part of the city we’re in. I guess that makes sense.
Speaking of movies, there are many I am looking forward to seeing. In no particular order:
- Krrish, the sequel to Koi…Mil Gaya (Bollywood’s first sci-fi movie)
- Jet Li’s Fearless (holler!)
- One of my all-time favorite books, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, might possibly be made into a movie, with Michael Chabon on board (via Pop Astronaut). Crossing my fingers.
Bonus: When I was about eight months pregnant with the little man, my car was destroyed (a 1997 VW Jetta that I bought brand new). By mother nature. It was just one week before I moved into the home that I live in now and the ordeal caused a heapload of stress I could have done without. Well, it seems that my then-neighborhood, in Minneapolis, behind The Wedge, was flooded again. I didn’t have the presence of mind to take photos when it happened to me, but this is exactly what it looked like. And it makes me miss that neighborhood a whole lot less.
Plus: My long-time favorite bra is disintegrating, slowly going from being to nothingness with each washing.
And: June has already given me three wonderful weekends of live music (Signal to Trust, Tragedy, and Low, among others). And I’m closing the month out with The Sound the Hare Heard (a special Kill Rock Stars tour) on my birthday, and Seu Jorge the day after. Yay!
It was another interesting-yet-exhausting week. The little man graduated from kindergarten on Thursday, with a ceremony and everything. Friday I joined him at school, again, to accompany his class on a field trip on their last day of kindergarten. It was a good time, but after spending two mornings in a row with his classmates I was feeling pretty wiped out. I don’t know how the teachers do it every day, but now I have a better understanding of why there is such high turnover on staff.
Afterwards I sent the little man on to the childcare program for a bit, so I could take care of a few errands. Like heading over to Uptown Tattoo for a consultation with Nic Skrade (the artist who did my other tattoos a decade ago). While waiting for my appointment I discovered that the wireless connection from Bob’s Java Hut, directly below, was at 100% signal strength…so I was too busy online to immediately notice who sat down next to me. The little man’s babysitter. She had an appointment with Nic right after mine. How serendipitous. We had a lovely time catching up, with a bonus. I’ve booked her services again, for the evening of my birthday, so the husband and I can go to a show at the Triple Rock. He’s going to go with me this time, even if he injures himself again beforehand.
Something else from last week, this zine, pictured below, arrived in the mail. The title is not technically true. My baby doesn’t ride the short bus…anymore. These days I drive him to the border shared by St. Paul and Minneapolis, to a bus stop, where he is whisked away in a minivan. But this zine came about two summers ago, when I went to the MamaGathering (held in Minneapolis that year) and met other mothers from all over. I was particularly interested to meet other moms who had children with special needs. Some of us got to talking, and this zine was born. It took a while to receive my copy, but the woman who put it all together has her hands full, with one autistic son, plus a new baby. It’s really strange going back to re-read my essay now. So much has changed, but too much has remained the same (still getting the runaround from insurance companies, for one thing). Perhaps it’s time to put out Issue #2.
Bonus: I love this…the “We Met on Flickr” pool.
Plus: I wish I could have been at yesterday’s Bubble Battle in NYC. Sigh.
And: Watch The Corruptibles, from EFF.
My birthday is coming up, as it inevitably does. But this go around the husband has shocked and amazed me by asking me what I’d like. Like, giftwise. Generally he isn’t into “obligatory gifts” and I am content with the glorious baked goods he makes instead (shhh, don’t tell him that). But if he’s offering? Well, ok then. Anyhow, his first thought was to get me a new cell phone, as the one I’ve been toting around for years is on the defective side. The sad little thing is unable to store telephone numbers, and the amount of time the battery holds its charge? Honestly, the little man’s attention span is longer. But I really don’t use it all that much, nor is the idea of a new phone at all tantalizing. There are oodles of other things out there that would *really* rock my socks off. At the top of the list 1) a new camera and 2) a new tattoo. I am torn. We can’t quite afford a new digital SLR at the moment, so it would have to be a delayed gratification thing, with the husband socking away some money in savings for me. The tattoo is one I’ve been wanting for some time, and I haven’t had a new tattoo since my birthday…in 1996. Naturally I’m leaning towards the instant gratification option. Plus, I kind of want to wait until Canon comes out with a camera that incorporates the sensor dust-fighting features of Sony’s latest.
Speaking of my birthday…I don’t think I’ve ever pimped my wish list before, but what the hell? If the husband can get me a present, maybe you can too. Less than two weeks to go folks. Have at it.
Ack! It’s come to my attention that the wish list link wasn’t working properly, but I have since updated it. Phew.
Bonus: Some friends are involved with the 48 Hour Film Project and their creation was screening tonight. At my favorite theater even. But I saw two movies yesterday (Cars with the little man, and District B-13 with little Dave) and I’m tired and a little logey so I punked out. Sorry guys.
Surprising no one, the husband did not join me for the Tragedy show on Saturday (and he still needs to go to the doctor, dammit). That was disappointing. Also? I was unable to sell his ticket. But hey, it was only $8, and maybe that meant the bands got a tiny little bit more of the take. The show itself was good, though Tragedy’s set was on the short side, and I was able to socialize with folks I rarely see. And afterwards I headed to nearby Dinkytown for another fantastic flickr photowalk. All in all a good evening, even without my imaginary husband.
Yesterday we didn’t make it to the MIA, as planned. Around mid-day the little man suggested we go to the gym (not like, “hey lady, you look like you could use a workout” but because he wanted to play in the FitKid Gym). I figured we’d swing by the festivities, post-gym. But then it started raining. And I realized we had a high school graduation party to attend. The latter included the opportunity to see our adorable niece. Naturally that event won out.
Today, the little man is home with me. Last July he began kindergarten at a school that runs year-round. Now, almost one year later, I’m still adjusting to the odd schedule, with its randomly placed breaks. Looking at the school’s calendar last week I realized that the lad and I will be having four-day weekends together until July 17th (typically I have a good portion of every Monday and Friday to myself, while he’s at school. On non-school days he goes to a childcare program Tuesday-Thursday, so that I can go to work). So the two of us will have some free time while the husband will be working from home. In an effort to stay out his hair I’m planning a number of tentative field trips.
- A return trip to the all-new Minneapolis Central Library
- Throwing rocks into Lake Calhoun (a long-standing favorite)
- Checking out the Midtown Global Market
- Catching a showing of Cars (even though it doesn’t look nearly as good as Pixar’s previous releases)
- Playdates/picnics with various friends and their spawn
- Our inaugral trip to the new Trader Joe’s
- Visits to the Minnesota History Center and/or Mill City Museum
- Swimming at the YWCA on non-swimming lesson days
But before we begin checking off the items on this list, I need to get myself some coffee. I’m fresh out.
Bonus: I’ve discovered another vegan food blog. Don’t roll your eyes. This one is effing fantastic. Veganfriendly’s tagline says it all: New York City restaurant reviews by two vegans who love to eat. Okay, it doesn’t say it all. Visits to this site include an elevated risk of drooling.
Plus: When I was at the show the other night an old friend asked if I’d be going to see Gorilla Biscuits in August. I looked at him and sighed before proclaiming that it won’t be like it was in the old days. I stand by this, especially after googling revealed that they have their own profile page on, ack, VH1. That’s just wrong.
The husband and I share a love of music. Though not always the same music (thankfully there is an overlap). Sadly he doesn’t share my love of live music. The last show we went to together was at least three or four years ago. That also would have been the last show he went to, period. So I was a little bit surprised, and a lot thrilled, when he agreed to go see Tragedy with me. I ran out and bought tickets at the Triple Rock and arranged for the little man to hang with his bio-dad for the evening. But then. Tragedy struck. Not the band, just our perpetually bad luck. Yesterday afternoon the doorbell rang. It was UPS. We are generally overexcited by special deliveries. So the husband got up and began sprinting out of the computer room. And slipped. On some paper that was laying on the floor (courtesy of the little man and his out of control art projects). And cracked his ribs against the wooden armrest of the futon couch. He is sore as heck now and more than a little cranky, understandably, and being stubborn about calling the triage nurse at our clinic. The show is tomorrow. Will he be joining me? Stay tuned. But the outlook? Not so good.
Bonus: In local news…first off, yesterday’s tale of a local, real-life Superhero to the rescue made me extremely happy. And I happened to hear an interview with Terry Skarman, the Wedge cashier who was mugged, and Cameron Evans, the Galactic Pizza delivery dude/superhero, on the CBC’s As It Happens. It was highly entertaining. Also, at long last, the new wing of the Minnesota Institue of Arts is ready. The Grand Opening is Sunday and festivities include an aerial performance by Xelias. We are so there.
Plus: Some of my peeps are currently on vacation. Milk and Cake is kicking it Texas-style, and Chuck is chilling at Vloggercon in San Fran. I don’t see any real vacations in our (near)future, so I’ll just have to live vicariously through theirs.
And: One reason we won’t be going on any vacations…the roofing job we recently had done (not cheap). It was interesting and timely to see this story today: Who’s on the roof: Immigrant labor shapes a summer industry because I’d been pondering some of those same issues, like whether or not the contractor we’d hired had used sub-contractors to do the job. But what’s done is done and we have a lovely new roof which will be an asset when we sell the house next year. (Update: the husband has informed me that Angie’s List actually states whether or not a contractor uses sub-contractors and ours does not, except for the gutter work - but that requires specialized equipment.)
