weapons of massdistraction

Thursday was an excellent day for me, on a personal level, though it was chock full of reminders…of the impermanence of all things. In the afternoon there was a devastating fire in the Lynnhurst neighborhood of Minneapolis, destroying a corner that had been home to several popular, locally-owned businesses. Including the Blackbird, where a friend of mine had been a server. And it burned down on her birthday. Incredibly sad.

Also heard the news that day that an area of downtown St. Paul near my home will likely be flooding this Spring, for the first time since 2001. Including Harriet Island, a park we enjoy walking to and one that is home to the annual Taste of Minnesota 4th of July event. Thankfully our house is on higher ground and the High Bridge will take us right up and over the flood zone. But since the last flood in 2001 a great deal of housing - in the form of apartment complexes and condos - has been built directly on the flood plain. When I saw it all under construction I recall thinking that, in a few years, it would all be underwater, Atlantis-style. I guess we’ll see how this plays out after the thaw.

Later that day we had a rushed-yet-lovely Punch pizza dinner with my son and a friend. Then I dropped the boy off with my ex so I could meet yet another friend at the Bedlam Theater. We had time to catch up a bit before the show started. And what a show it was! I highly recommend you get out to see Jennifer Jajeh’s one-woman tragicomedy I Heart Hamas: And Other Things I’m Afraid to Tell You. The show is funny and smart and sincere and gut-wrenching, particularly when she recalls her time in Ramallah during the second Intifada, with its “clash points” and checkpoints. After her Minneapolis dates she’ll be moving along to do some shows in Chicago and LA.

Five entirely random oddball things just because:

• An amazing photoset: Animal Antics. And Koalas aren’t always so cuddly. The little critters sound like they’re possessed when fighting! Seriously, those noises are downright demonic.
• From babies in buckets with laser eyes to OMG LASER GUNS PEW PEW PEW (the secret weapon is the squirrel)
• Brit baritone actor and director Lionel Jeffries dies, aged 83. Here he is singing Posh from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
• The Big Freeze for Action Man. And another “action man” Dolph Lundgren doing it up with the Swedes. So weird.
• For Love Of Do-Good Vampires: A Bloody Book List (I have read most of these, but a couple are to me, and some of my favorites didn’t make the list - harrumph!)

It’s been a lazy Saturday but that’s just what I needed. Last night we had good times at Clockwork’s game night. Tonight we’ll be socializing some more. But this morning I woke up with my brain full of story ideas and tidbits for the werewolf cop novel. I hope to flesh them out some more before I eventually get my ass in gear today. Yeah, that’s why I’m still in my PJs at 2pm. Uh huh.

Now that we have the car back I don’t want to go anywhere. Partially as I’m a bit anxious that one of the many crater-sized potholes out there will swallow us down into the hollow earth. But more so because I am a fickle little woman who complains about not being able to go out (mostly at night) and am fully embracing sloth mode this morning. But today’s options include a pancake breakfast (vegan-friendly) / flickr photowalk (photos + exercise!) / TC Maker Minne-Faire (with co-worker friends) / Como Conservatory visit (steamy). Or staying inside to figure out why our Roku box hates the new router (borrrrrring). Tonight I would love to get to the Triple Rock for Cake Eater’s Staroake party, hosted by Arzu. Alas I am using my get-out-of-jail-free card for the Retribution Gospel Choir show next Saturday night.

Instead I will likely stay in and play board games with the boy, then alternately read (the most recent installment in the demon-hunting soccer mom series), work on my own werewolf cop novel, and watch some more Archer.

At ISIS, an international spy agency, global crises are merely opportunities for its highly trained employees to confuse, undermine, betray and royally screw each other. At the center of it all is suave master spy Sterling Archer, whose less-than-masculine code name is “Duchess.” Archer works with his domineering mother Malory, who also is his boss. He also has to deal with his ex-girlfriend, Agent Lana Kane and her new boyfriend, ISIS comptroller Cyril Figgis, as well as Malory’s lovesick secretary, Cheryl.

The boy caught me watching some this morning and I quickly paused it. When informed that no, it was not age-appropriate for him to view he snorted and responded with “cartoons for grown-ups? Now that’s just crazy talk!” Oh my sweet, naive boy. Of course this is the kid who loves Invader Zim and Home Movies. But Archer is crossing the line. Though the main character is voiced by the actor who played Coach McGuirk in Home Movies. And it’s bizarre hearing his voice boom out of another body.

Yesterday I caught up on my Mimi Smartypants backlog, all of her posts of the highest caliber, as usual. And in one she included this tidbit:

This is the funniest anal examination story I have ever read. Yes I know, that’s a pretty low bar.

It was highly entertaining and led me to read other posts by that author. And I can totally relate to this:

The best thing about living in an old house is that every day is a surprise and an adventure in survival.

It is not unlike my own adventures in carbon monoxide poisoning, only this woman is much much funnier. She is someone I could swap tales with. Recently more than one friend has suggested I rent out my house (since selling in this market is highly unlikely) and either move closer to where we need to be (in Minneapolis) or to somewhere else entirely. Preferably warmer. And I just shake my head. If only it were that easy. I’ve done some preliminary research. In order to get this old house into rent-able shape I would have to shell out thousands of dollars to get the place up to code. The deck is falling off the back of the house. The fence is falling down. The new front steps never got a railing because I ran out of money. Some electrical work needs to be done. I’ve evicted the pigeons from the attic and sealed it up, but they seem to have taken up residence in the eaves under the roof on one side of the house. The upstairs floors are ugly and should be refinished. It’s never-ending. I could go on but instead I’ll retreat into my hidey-hole, for now.

Bonus: The World Press Photo Awards 2010 - powerful, striking stuff.
Plus: More additions are being made to the All Tomorrow’s Parties lineup for New York in September, but it looks as though they’ve allowed their domain name to expire, which makes me sad. I doubt I’ll be able to make it to ATP NY but I had excellent times there in 2008.
And: Ask Axe Cop is just as fun as the Axe Cop comics, only harder to say!

STOP RAINING ON MY PARADE! Seriously though, what gives world? I realize the potholes I’ve been hitting (figuratively and literally) are small things, in the grand scheme of things, but they are stress-inducing sleep-wrecking things just the same. So, in the latest edition of Fuck My Life…Tuesday. Every Tuesday my son hangs out at my ex’s after school for some guy time. Usually Pizza Luce plus video games. They both enjoy it. And the grown-ups take turns shuttling the boy home. Last week the ex drove him to my house so last night it was my turn to pick up. Retrieval went smoothly enough, but on the way to the freeway on-ramp I hit a pothole. And it took out BOTH tires on the passenger side. I managed to park safely on a side street that had already been plowed (a Minneapolis snow emergency is still in effect) and called the ex. He wound up having to drive my son home after all, but with me along for the ride. These situations highlight how very dependent we are on our car to get us where we need to go. With the location of our house in relation to school and my place of employment, there’s just no way public transportation would ever cut it. Thankfully I have a co-worker who lives near us. A very nice one who was willing and able to schlep us around town this morning. Which included dropping my keys off with a mechanic near our office and asking them to tow my car in and check it out. I only hope I can afford the necessary fixes. I anxiously await the damage report now.

To add to yesterday’s stress, because it wasn’t great enough, I discovered that someone created a new Sharynmorrow account on flickr that has no pix or profile info and they’d only faved photos of me and my Dad and my son. CREEPY! I promptly blocked them and reported them to flickr abuse. But the response from flickr advocacy was to have me fax a copy of my ID. Fine, fine. Just one more thing to add to the To Do pile.

Before I picked up the boy and broke my car I’d opted to catch a showing of Up in the Air, which suited my already frazzled but pre-broken car mood (post-broken car I upped the ante on my Wii Fit workout, watched some Chuck and later, Lost). When I tweeted about needing “a little George Clooney” a friend offered this up. Yuk yuk.

On the ride in with my co-worker today we talked about the progress of my werewolf cop novel. He, in turn, told me about a werewolf story he’d read and enjoyed growing up:

The Wolf’s Hour is a 1989 World War II adventure novel with a twist by Robert R. McCammon. A British secret agent goes behind German lines to stop a secret weapon from being launched against the Allies. The twist is that this agent is a werewolf. The book also includes some of the agent’s history, namely how he became a werewolf.

Oh hell yeah! This is what I need more of in my life right now. Too bad my library doesn’t seem to have it and it’s going for over $75 on Amazon. Turns out there are actually cheaper copies on ebay but I am already very broke and about to be even more so. Oh, and my library card expired on Monday anyhow. Yep, not my best week.

Bonus: On a day like today one needs Black and WTF, a photoblog chock full of strange old black & whites.
Plus: Various takes on Bat and Moth Aerobatics. Remarkably beautiful.
And: Ok, I’ll admit it, this headline sucked me in: “Olympic moms get all-around gold” but curling is cool and hey, they have titles like “Skip” and “Vice Skip.”

Completely spaced out on the deadline to drop off submissions for the MIA’s Foot in the Door 4 exhibit. The deadline is today. I plan to rummage through the big box of my photo prints and see if I have anything that might be worthy but time is running out and I am still in my PJs. But DON’T PANIC. I’m not. It’s fine, really. Oh gawd, there are forms to fill out. I loathe filling out forms. Deep breaths.

Five good things for this fine Sunday:

• Over the weekend I’ve become completely enamored of Axe Cop. It’s my new favorite comic written by a 5-year-old and drawn by his 29-year-old brother. I’ve consumed all of the episodes, listened to a few interviews with the brothers, spread the good word about Axe Cop far and wide, and am considering getting Parker and I some of the merch.
• Vanity Fair article on the women who helped make Disney animation magic: Coloring the Kingdom
• Pink Tentacle has goodies galore, as usual. Star Wars disco sea chicken! And Monster illustrations from ‘Yokai Jiten’
• What Katie Wore: A lot of the color and pattern combinations are so garish they make my eyes bleed but still, it’s quite fun.
• The Wolfman opens this Friday, the 12th. I look forward to seeing it on the big screen. Until then I am giggling at Kate Beaton’s take on it. And attempting to spur myself into action, forging ahead with my werewolf cop novel rather than getting sucked further into Julie Kenner’s demon-hunting soccer mom series. But it’s tough.

The weather has been wonderfully mild. Conditions were pretty much perfect for sledding with a friend yesterday. Afterward, though, the sun came out and my son practically hissed while saying “nooooooooo, it burns!” then went on to insist that he is a creature of the night. One that falls asleep by 9pm, but whatever. We have more outdoors-y plans for late afternoon today but am put off by these murmurings of another impending snowmageddon. It’s too tempting to just stay in and work on perfecting new (to me) bread recipes while listening to new (to me) music.