Sometimes I’m not as smart as I look. In general, walking the 1.85 miles to work is a good thing. But today. Sigh. There were more than three strikes against me. I headed out on an empty stomach (empty, save for a cup of coffee), wearing flip-flops (not intended for long distances) and black pants on a hot and hazy morning. And was forced to wend my way through the myriad obstacles presented by the Taste of Minnesota, which sprung up on my route overnight. The last is an annual event that was relocated from the cramped Capitol grounds to my scenic side of the river…but it encroaches on our territory too much. We can’t even park on our street without a permit. The tradeoff is five nights of fireworks, easily seen from our computer room window, without the mosquitoes. And on the last night…The Violent Femmes are playing a free show. Oh, how I loved them in the eighth grade.
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For my birthday the husband gave me the gift that keeps giving (and I don’t mean the headphones, though those are quite nice). I’m talking about upgraded DSL service. For the past four years I’ve suffered sluggish, sketchy service…speeds of only 256 Kbps, with weird restrictions (we could only be connected for two hours at a time before being booted off, and would have to wait five minutes before reconnecting, and the husband could only be connected through my machine, as the modem was incompatible with Linux) and I was paying a premium price for the privilege. We’d considered switching to Comcast, but the time I tried to follow through with that threat the cable guy didn’t bother to show up. It’s just as well. Last week the husband used some of his precious free time to boldly navigate the stormy seas of Qwest’s site. He went into information gathering mode, plunking the data into a spreadsheet and crunching his numbers before doing what he dreads most…getting on the horn with a human. But when he was through with them he’d reduced our monthly bill by $17 or so, and more than tripled our connection speed…to a service that will not disconnect every two hours, and is now networked such that he no longer needs my computer in order to be online with his (that might just lower our electricity bill as well). Go team!
In other news, I apologize for the lack of content lately. Life’s been busy, but thankfully it’s been a good sort of busy. Goofing off with the little man, reading, hanging out with friends and family, seeing three enjoyable movies in one week, getting started on the anniversary edition of the 26 things scavenger hunt. But the real world escapades may come to an end (or be somewhat curtailed). Now that the faster DSL is up and running I’m afraid my ass will find its way into this chair more often.
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I find this too frustrating not to point out…so I’m posting a letter to the editor from the Director of Mizna (whose site I am the web master of), regarding this week’s City Pages cover story:
To the editor,
I find it quite ironic and telling that you would print this extended cover story of “scary Arabs” in Minnesota, yet continue to ignore the story of the local Arab community which is rich and full of artists, scholars, and hard working people of all walks of life. Your story coming out on July 4th weekend furthers the insult in creating an “us” vs. “them”. In fact, our local community organization Mizna is a forerunner in the country in Arab American artistic and literary expression. Yet, Mizna has been battling with the City Pages for two years now to get you to cover or even list our events accurately or timely. In addition to producing the only journal of Arab American literature in the country, in the past few months alone we have presented several ground breaking well attended events which you have ignored or mislisted. On March 13 we hosted international oud virtuouso Simon Shaheen (whom you mislisted), on March 27 we brought in Def Poetry Jam superstar Suheir Hammad (this event you did not print at all), and from June 3 - 13 we produced the play With Love from Ramallah and you did not mention it in your paper until the second week of the run. In each instance, we were either not listed, mislisted or given barely a write up. Yet, your story of the scary Arabs in Rochester gets an indepth cover story with stereotypical observations of Arabs, interviews with people who do not understand the culture, a limited and stereotypical look at the topic, and no interviews with local Arabs whatsoever. How are you different from Fox News??
Kathryn Haddad
Executive Director
Mizna
Couldn’t have said it better myself. Sigh.
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Not surprising…but incredibly sad.
“If America hadn’t gone totally junk culture, totally commercial, bookstores like Ruminator wouldn’t have any trouble at all,” Bly added. “David would have done just fine at the tail end of the 19th century. You can’t sell Shakespeare to someone who comes in looking for a discount paperback copy of ‘Reagan’s OK, You’re OK.’ “
I’ll admit…I’ve been a part of the problem more than the solution, what with borrowing books from friends or libraries, buying them at Half Price Books, or, ack, getting lured in by the ridiculous discounts offered by online retailers. But Ruminator (née Hungry Mind) was a local landmark that will surely be missed.
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Thanks so much to all the well wishers, online and otherwise. This has been one of the better and busier birthday weeks in recent memory. But 31? Can’t say much about that odd number…other than it’s prime (just like me, yeah).
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Years before the husband was the object of my affection he was my co-worker, as was our mutual good friend Dave. Frequently the three of us would go out to lunch together, sometimes to a St. Paul favorite…the now closed kosher restaurant, Old City Cafe (apparently unrelated to the brand now sold in stores). One of our favorite items…vegan pizza with falafel topping. I’d nearly forgotten about this, but as we were heading to Dave’s last night, with the intent to make pizza, the husband suggested we throw on some falafel. Mmmmmmm, tasty. It was just like old times. Except that we are no longer co-workers. And the then single Dave is now married to the lovely Huey-Ling. And I’m mom to the little man…and married…to the husband. But other than that, just like old times.
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Some randomness for this Wednesday morning…
Unlike Paul Ford, I am not embarrassed by my geekery (in fact, I was thrilled that he used one of my favorite books as an example). At an early age I decided to embrace my inner dork, to flaunt it even. I thought it better to court the inevitable ostracization than to wait in fear of it.
For those of us who missed David Byrne’s performance last Friday, we have a small consolation prize. Tonight True Stories is playing at Stevens Square Park.
Tomorrow night, looking forward to seeing The Magnetic Fields, at long last.
Friday, my father and I will have another shared birthday. When I was a kid he would always take the day off from work so we could celebrate together. When I entered the working world, I made sure to do the same. But these days life is complicated by too many contingencies and Friday will find us both working. At least I’m going to bring him some donuts first thing in the morning (shh, don’t tell).
Some tentative plans for this weekend. A girls’ night/day out at some point. And though I have mixed feelings about this light rail business (not light rail itself, but the route), I’m going to take the little man for a free ride. He should get a kick out of that.
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Just a quick shoutout to the little man’s fairy godless-mother.
Happy Birthday! The week of our celebrations has commenced, and knows nearly no end. Photo recaps to come.
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We took a brief break from the city this weekend and went up north. As it turns out, not only did I marry a lovely man, the deal was sweetened by the unexpected bonus…of extremely pleasant in-laws, who happen to have a great getaway spot. We all headed up Friday afternoon and came back down late Saturday night. Time was spent relaxing, snacking, goofing off at the rec center (the husband may be a pinball wizard, but I would have whooped his butt with the foosball…if the table hadn’t been out of commission), riding rented paddleboats down a man-made river, reading, playing trivial pursuit, and bbq-ing. And it was time well spent (click here to see the pictures to prove it).
Speaking of time…I can’t believe this much of it has passed, but it was five years ago today, with the little man kicking away in my belly and standing on my bladder, that I became landed gentry. I closed on my house June 20th, 1999. In some ways it seems like yesterday, in other ways a lifetime ago. I guess it really was the latter…the little man’s.
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Instead of doing something productive last night I frittered the evening away a: lost in a good book that I’d had on hold at the library (not really a waste of time in my opinion); b: being drawn into the Plain Layne mystery (debatable); and c: playing around with this portrait illustration/icon making tool (via ljc fyi). Could have spent more time tweaking the nose, but at least the little man thinks it looks like me. That sort of testimonial probably isn’t much better than “my mom thinks I’m cool” but he did point to it and announce “it’s mommy” with no prodding/coaching whatsoever. Honest. Then again, when I was reading Bruce Campbell’s excellent autobiography, If Chins Could Kill, he kept pointing to the picture on the cover, thinking it was the husband. I wish. I mean, er. Never mind.
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