did i say that out loud?

an open year: su casa es mi casa

elspeth — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 17:38:21 GMT

After 14 years, one day is not long enough to spend at home. Here is my little report. I want to say up front that I drove away in tears on Saturday at having to leave, even though I was going to other places I also wanted to be. At that moment, though, I wanted to stay, find everyone I’d met during the day, hug them and say thank you while not bristling with pins and encased in steel. Then sleep and do it again the next day, only better. First of all, the people are wonderful! Warm, wicked, welcoming, playful, sweet, and into it. And so so so so nice, to let me come play in their space and take care of me. I’m especially grateful to Lisa for getting me out there, and to her and Christine for letting me trail around after them like a velvet puppy, and constantly repointing me in the right direction. It was so wonderful to see old friends, meet people in real life who had theretofore been only pixels, and many more who were completely new, and everywhere so much warmth and acceptance and smiles and hugs and hands proffered – just overwhelming and I can only hope I didn’t offend anyone who was sweet to me. Special apologies if anyone spoke to me and I didn’t respond – my hearing for individual voices isn’t good in places with a lot of ambient noise – and also I may have zoned out a bit during the hottest parts of the day. After so many years (and after hearing so much controversy), I was surprised and delighted at how Blackpointy it felt at Casa. Not just the dust, either. The atmosphere was convivial, familial, and familiar, in the best sense of the word. Willington may be a smaller village than Chipping-Under-Oakwood was, but it has the feel of a village. The narrow, winding streets give a European small-town feel, and I bet you couldn’t widen a lot of those paths without chopping down trees, which is even better. The site may not be huge, but it’s big enough to get lost in, in a good way. Between the site and the performers, it’s a busy, bustling, interesting village, and if you’re not searching for the flaws it’s evocative of another time and place. Yes there were a couple instances of illusion-threatening music, and a few language issues here and there, but sooooo much better than what happens in most of the rest of the country that there’s no ground whatsoever for hating on it. Great job, and from what I hear it’s only getting better. Mostly it felt completely natural to be there, and I was only flummoxed by not knowing the natural rhythm of the day, hence the natural moments to play without stepping on toes. And frustrated that I don't know the songs that are being sung now nor the dances to dance. If there is a next time, that will be easier. One thing did not come back easily, much to my bemusement: The Great Chain of Being. 1) Letting people do things for me was hard. All day long, kind people tied me back up when I came undone (which happened frequently), picked things up when I dropped them (which I did constantly), moved things under me or out of my way, and watered me like a wilting flower. I was and am deeply grateful, and also felt that 'gramercy' was no adequate recompense. 2) As a driver I know that if two cars come to an intersection, at least one had better stop or there will likely be an accident. Right-of-way means nothing to physics. Throughout the day, I reverenced quite a few people inappropriately under this assumption. Finally, I’m going to venture a theory: Any cultural event is a reflection of its times. The world doesn’t remain static, therefore neither can faire. The ‘60s/’70s folk-and-folk-history revival was partly a reaction to the relentless modernizing, let’s-forget-the-past drive that happened post-WWII. That was a cultural movement that informed faire then. These days, our pop culture is ironic, self-referential, deliberately mashing up past and present, and that’s going to be reflected in today’s faire. No, the 16th century does not change, but history is not an absolute. History lives through the eyes of the living, and the living change. History never repeats, nor should we expect it to do so.

an open year (day i don't know anymore)

elspeth — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 15:45:59 GMT

Some number of words: What an intense weekend. Too thrashed to cohere now, but a few words. Between Faire, the wedding, and everything around and in between, I have never felt so warmly, munificently befriended, welcomed. Thank you, all of you, you rock, you sweet people. Nor so very, very, very single. Why am I doing that again? More when I recover some. Quatrain: you may go home again without dread for their expectations mean no more than yours what you bring them is who you now are all choices are new when you're opening doors

Elizabeth Knollys, Lady Leighton

elspeth — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 19:51:56 GMT

This is who I'll be playing on Saturday, any of you who may encounter me. Play with me! I'm excited. I'm scared. I'm excited again. It's a rollercoaster. [I'll be dressed in grey and black, unfortunately not this absolute confection of a color scheme. Blame it on my Puritan husband. :D] ************************************************** Elizabeth Knollys, Lady Leighton Wife to Sir Thomas Leighton, Captain and Governor of Guernsey. A trusted servant of the Queen, and a staunch Puritan. Austere is a nice word for him. Has a fine estate at Feckenham in lovely Worcester, but chooses to live full time on the island of Guernsey building up that damned fortress he's obsessed with, Castle Cornet. They've been married three years, and so far have one child, a daughter, Elizabeth (naturally). Sister to Lettice Knollys, Countess of Essex. Hey, we're a big family, not all of us sisters get to marry an Earl. Or two - talk about hogging the resources! Aunt to Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex. Adorable. He's going to be a terror when he's a man grown. Wish I had a son. Former Maid of Honor (until her marriage). Thinks the Queen looks best in white. Gives her something white, wearable, and shiny every New Years for prezzies. So what? So she's gone from being a MoH who loved the life at court to being trapped on the Isle of Guernsey for the last three years with her new husband. He isn't a bad catch for a younger daughter - old family, well off, royal favor and all that. But Guernsey is an island of 30 square miles, and her husband thinks of nothing but fortifications and Puritan theology. Elizabeth is dying for some fun, and a conversation that doesn't involve sheep, fishing, fortress-building, or godliness. She has been allowed to come visit the Court and her sister, on condition that she behaves herself, according to the guidelines Sir Thomas has set out, or she may not get off Guernsey again for a very long time. Dancing is specifically forbidden, and he's set a man to "protect" her to make certain she complies. See him, over there, behind that tree? But all that is not forbidden, is fair game. **************************************************

an open year (day 27) - ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

elspeth — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 12:39:30 GMT

I don't have an orange cat, I AM an orange cat. First of all, after playtesting for almost a month, it's become clear that the photo+50words+quatrain format is too constricting for me. So I'm going to maintain one-a-day posting schedule (tribe outages, travel, and too-busy-living-to-post permitting), but the content will vary. Now. Today is a happy day, because I have a week of vacation and I get to come home to lovely SF, yay! Today is a sad day, because it would have been my Booboo's 49th b-day and he doesn't get to see the sun shining on the San Francisco Bay and I do, so boo. Today is a happy day, because I have 25 pounds of costume in a garment bag and I get to put it on and go play on Saturday, and gleeful anticipation (lightly peppered with self-conscious anxiety) adds a frisson to everything. Character ID and sketch for Saturday to follow, I have to stop typing and get on the plane. See many of you soon!

an open year (day 26)

elspeth — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 13:59:53 GMT

Photo: Happy 1st day of Autumn! The extraordinary sky over Lake Mälaren at sunset. Vikings settled islands in this inland sea. 50 words: My horoscope says to relinquish nostalgia and embrace the future. A tall order for anyone who loves history. Here, though, is a plausible interpretation: The future is that which will become history. Therefore, to make history that will be a pleasure to remember, make a happy future. Pre-form the past. Quatrain: For all I thought we used to know, I half suppress a yearning. I'm not so good at letting go, But baby, I am learning.

an open year (day 17)

elspeth — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 10:49:35 GMT

Photo: Apple tree at the end of Djäknegatan, in the old part of town. 50 words: Rum-Tum-Tum-Tiddly-Um Tummy! All this restaurant food isn’t agreeing with me, so I’m having a picnic in my hotel room! Cape gooseberries, snow peas, seven-seed flatbread, caviar, salted nuts, still water, and flakey pastry with crème caramel for dessert. Plus organic dark chocolate with marzipan for afters, embroidery, and foreign TV. Happy traveler! Quatrain: It's not Eve's fault that Adam ate the apple, If all of us have free will, And if we don't then God ordained it, So the woman's blameless still.

an open year (day 15)

elspeth — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 15:36:10 GMT

Photo: Greetings from Sweden! The River Svartån, seen from Stora Gaten. 50 words: The Genie of the Lamp Grants Wisdom to Alladin. “Three wishes.” “Before I choose, I have to know if I’ll be happy.” “Depends what you wish. That’s one.” “Unfair! I need time to think!” “Done. You have a year. That’s two.” Year passes. “Well?” “I can’t, it’s too hard. Can’t you tell me what to do?” “Choose. That’s three.” Quatrain: Dum Vivis, Carpe Diem. Some can find courage to chase Opportunity; Some listen, poised, for its knock; Some, cowed by fear, choose eternal passivity -- Their ships rot, moored to the dock.

an open year (day xx)

elspeth — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 14:48:10 GMT

Today's broadcast will not be aired, in observance of Trixadecaphobia Day.

an open year (day 8)

elspeth — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 22:28:14 GMT

Photo: The snazzy new digital video camera they got me to record usability testing. Not much bigger than a coffee cup! 50 words: Letting Go: The Uphill Battle (Episode 3425) When I’m worried about local things I can’t control (what people will think of my work, or catching a cold before scheduled travel), faraway things start to produce more worry too. Distant storms, wars, currency values, all kinds of things that depend on other people’s choices, for good or ill. Quatrain: Control’s the sweetest strong illusion. Its paradox has us pinned: The only shelter from confusion, To cast our fates upon the wind.

an open year (day 6)

elspeth — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 20:59:22 GMT

Photo: Volunteer tuberoses in late summer. Flowers bloom here only half the year. These may be the last of the season, so doubly precious. 50 words: Hope - An Unexpected Wave. Political cynicism accretes in oyster shell layers through the years, building until sand grains of irritation seem pearls of realistic wisdom. Ceaseless tides of unfounded rhetoric erode capacity for credence. Then last night’s moon appeared, rendering the tide momentarily bioluminescent… dare I say? Believable. I would vote for Michelle Obama. Quatrain: Father said, you know, I don't feel old, I still feel about eighteen. Mother said, that's how being old feels then, You're who you've always been.

naval tactics question

elspeth — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 20:09:11 GMT

I don't know much about naval tactics, and am hoping some of you do. The situation: You are in a submarine, in enemy waters in wartime. Let's assume WWII era, because I don't know from nuclear subs and missiles. You have sighted an enemy vessel, fired a round of torpedoes, and scored a hit. However, the enemy vessel is some distance away, and you cannot determine whether you have scored enough damage to sink the enemy vessel. You are not exactly short of torpedoes, but you do have a limited supply since you are in enemy waters and cannot just stop by the Costco to restock. The enemy ship has weapons that, if you have not destroyed them (which you cannot determine), could damage your submarine. There may also be other enemy ships in the area. The question is, do you: a) keep firing torpedoes at the enemy vessel until you are sure it has been sunk; b) wait there until you can determine if it is sinking before expending another round; or c) leave the damaged enemy vessel and go looking for other targets? What would a real submarine commander do?

my hero: Anna Eleanor Roosevelt

elspeth — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 18:11:35 GMT

"Do one thing every day that scares you." That's hard advice to take, girlfriend. I'm doing it, but wow... And, um, yeah, I think I broke my pinkie toe again. Just a little bit. Damned doorjambs. Oh well, at least it's flip-flop season.

in a disney world

elspeth — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 18:45:49 GMT

Why argue when you can test? The Disney Princess test says: It's a tie! --> You are part Belle. You are strong, deep, and you are not a slave to petty superficial things. You are independent and allow yourself to see inner beauty without sacrificing your values. You are almost too good of a person. --> You are part Pocahontas. You defy convention and sometimes do what is considered taboo. Unfortunately, others do not always appreciate your differences, so it's good that you are so strong-willed. You are loyal and you believe in fate. Your true love will find you one day. To identify your own inner Disney princess: http://www.brainfall.com/quizzes/which-disney-princess-are-you/ Or Disney prince: http://quizfarm.com/run.php/Quiz?quiz_id=135075 Or Disney villain: http://www.brainfall.com/quizzes/which-disney-villain-are-you/ The choice is yours.

garçon, painting party of one!

elspeth — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 15:29:47 GMT

The largest room on the first floor of my house, a 16'x14'x9'6" pass-through dining room, is really dark. Three doors and one smallish window (pictured above). Since my student social group doesn't include formal dinner parties, I have no dining room furniture. Instead, I use this room for exercise, and currently, a deal of storage. I WANT to use this room for sewing, music (it has nice acoustics for playing live, that 9'6" ceiling), and occasional Japanese-style dining (low table and floor pillows). But it's too damned dark, especially for sewing. Can't see anything in there but white thread, and what fun is that? Course, a big part of that Darkness At Noon effect is the dried-blood-red paint job. Time to do something about that, starting NOW. It's a lovely day for moving things and making messes.

remember "No Blood For Oil"?

elspeth — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 14:09:02 GMT

For five years we've had the blood. Now, here's the oil. http://afp.google.com/article/ALeqM5ia8Nq8bLbVxqs3UrRQbRareSMn6Q It's never about what they say it's about, my friends. To find the truth, follow the money. I'm off to take a shower, this stuff makes me feel sick and dirty.

well NOW we're just haggling over price!

elspeth — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 18:27:25 GMT

Egypt bans 92-year-old's marriage by Frances Harrison BBC News The Egyptian authorities have banned a 92-year-old man from marrying a 17-year-old girl, the Egyptian al-Akhbar newspaper has reported. The ministry of justice invoked a law which says the age gap between spouses should not exceed 25 years. Egypt brought in the law prohibiting the marriage of elderly men to very young girls during the Gulf oil boom. It was an effort to prevent wealthy men from the Gulf states seeking young poor brides from the Egyptian countryside. Not much is known about the 92-year-old man who tried to marry an Egyptian girl of 17 except that he is an Arab from the Gulf. An Egyptian justice official said by refusing to endorse their marriage it would now be impossible for the girl to travel abroad with her husband. However, in special cases, the justice ministry does allow foreign men to marry Egyptian women more than 25 years their junior if they deposit a very large sum of money in the name of their wife at the Egyptian National Bank. Both husband and wife also have to report in person to the ministry which checks their marriage is genuine to prevent any kind of trafficking in women. According to the al-Akhbar newspaper, 173 such marriages were allowed in the past year after the foreign husband deposited a sum equivalent to about US $8,000 and was screened.

suckerhood

elspeth — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 23:39:19 GMT

We chose the giant octopus feeding. Half-a-dozen of us trekked to the far end of the National Zoo in 90-degree heat yesterday afternoon and clustered in the invertebrate house, waiting for 3:00. But the joke was on us. Well, not just us. The octopus isn't really eating. The female giant Pacific octopus has a lifespan of about 3 years, the last six months of which are spent sitting on a clutch of 20K - 100K eggs, waiting for them to hatch. She doesn't eat anything she can't get without leaving her eggs, and even then only a bit or two a day. When they hatch, she dies. Only in this case the joke is on her too. These eggs will never hatch. This captive octopus has never had a male octopus around, so the eggs aren't fertilized. She doesn't know it, so she'll starve herself to death sitting on them for nothing. While everyone watches and the docent explains twice a day. And it's too late to do anything about it. I feel both sad and indignant for her. It's just not right.

open wide, it's friday!

elspeth — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 20:04:05 GMT

Suddenly it's true summer. It's been a long week. Ninety-two massively muggy degrees outside. Was that a cockatoo that just flew past the window? The lawn (or the agglomerated flora that pass for one) grew six inches in the last four days. And I think there are peanuts growing in it. The cats are flopped on the floor limp as flea furs. The always cool Three Rivers Arts Festival starts tonight. Three weeks of free live music and art fair down near where the Allegheny and the Monongehela meet to form the mighty Ohio. I'm looking forward to James McMurtry, Boca Chica, Alejandro Escovedo, and the New York Dolls. But might go catch Wino Riot just for the name. Now if my goldurned ankles would only stop breaking out in heat rash every time I go outside. Praise the sun and pass the Caladryl. Ooooh! "The Cockettes" just arrived via Netflix from Little Rock! This IS shaping up to be a good weekend. :)

Fashion fades. Style is eternal.

elspeth — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 02:48:25 GMT

RIP, Yves St. Laurent, inheritor of the House of Dior in 1957 at the preposterous age of 21, the last of an era of fashion royalty. “We must never confuse elegance with snobbery,” he said. "Isn't elegance forgetting what one is wearing?”

Un.

elspeth — Thu, 29 May 2008 04:02:03 GMT

1. Where is your mobile phone? Handbag. 2. Your significant other? Seeking. 3. Your hair? Flyaway. 4. Your mother? Alaska. 5. Your father? Mellowing. 6. Your favorite thing? Songs. 7. Your dream last night? Strangers. 8. Your favorite drink? Slaking. 9. Your dream/goal? Bambini. 10. The room you're in? Cluttered. 11. Your ex? Untrustworthy. 12. Your fear? Deceivers. 13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Everywhere! 14. Where were you last night? Bed. 15. What you're not? Doormat. 16. Muffins? Popovers. 17. One of your wish list items? Diploma. 18. Where you grew up? Apartments. 19. The last thing you did? Deleted. 20. What are you wearing? Smile. 21. Your TV? TCM. 22. Your pets? Dreaming. 23. Your computer? Silver. 24. Your life? Moving. 25. Your mood? Changeable. 26. Missing someone? Who? 27. Your car? Dirty. 28. Something you're not wearing? Chains. 29. Favorite Store? Coffeehouse. 30. Your summer? Beginning. 31. Like someone? Most. 32. Your favorite color? Sunlight. 33. When is the last time you laughed? Friends. 34. Last time you cried? Radio.

it's baby bird season!

elspeth — Tue, 27 May 2008 18:09:56 GMT

Welcome to the time of year when one is happiest to have belled the cats. The sparrows, blackbirds, meadowlarks and titmice are beside themselves with joy at the quantity of seed shaken loose since I weed-whacked the two-foot meadow into some semblance of a lawn. They twitter and warble nonstop from 4 a.m. until nearly midnight. The beloved bitch kitties, Walsingham and Cecil, lurk in the windowsills drooling, or pad futilely along the stonework, jingling like Santa's reindeer. And at long last, the yard is blossoming non-stop. Brilliant orange oriental poppies, variegated purple and lilac irises, onion chives with their bachelor-button-style lavender poms, straggling pale variety roses, clouds of white alyssum, violet trandescantia. The lilies of the valley have come and gone, but their leaves are still graceful and glossy. The maple has become a shade tree once more, and it's just about warm enough to take a guitar and a cool drink up to the sundeck in the early evening, look past the parking lot to the glimpse of river, and sing a few old songs. Peace. Come visit. We'll make fresh lemonade and berry buckle.

beautiful girl :-)

elspeth — Mon, 12 May 2008 22:53:46 GMT

PITTSBURGH -- It was an extra special Mother's Day for one tiger at the Pittsburgh Zoo and PPG Aquarium. Toma, the zoo's Amur tiger, gave birth to a girl cub early Sunday morning. The cub is being cared for by the zoo's veterinary staff and will be reintroduced to her mother on Tuesday. Amur tigers are an endangered species. There are only about 400 left in the wild and about 190 at zoos across the world.

Oh for pity's sake (the faire meme)

elspeth — Thu, 01 May 2008 04:32:19 GMT

1.Tankard, Goblet, or Plastic Cup? Goblet. 2. Did you dress your 1st time at Faire? Yes. See above, now imagine it in polyester with notably plastic pearls. And brown oxford shoes with buckles. The shoes were Stride-Rite, my mama made the rest. 3. Big Faire, Dam Faire, or Southern? Yep, Blackpoint and Agoura were some big damn Faires. 4. Do you regularly smuggle alcohol into Faire? Smuggle? Is it illegal? 5.What was the last thing you bought - other than food and drink? A burnt bamboo flute, key of G. Still smells amazing. 6. Do you regularly pirate pictures? Daily, on the high seas. WTF? 7. Ever followed the parade all the way through Faire? Parade, no. Chair, yes, but only because they made the womenfolk march behind. 8. Have you seen every show? Yes, I am Odin-the-All-Seeing, no show ever has escaped my single piercing eye. Or... no. 9.What does your favorite pin say? It is too encrusted with pearls to speak. 10. MUST your costume be period? Must it be faire approvable? Not only that, it must pass MY approval, and I can be quite persnickety. 11. Where was your last out-of state Faire? There was never a first. 12. Do you know the words to a Poxy Boggards' song? Nope. 13. How many costumes do you have? Faire costumes? Three. One servant class (no longer approvable since even the narrowest-wale corduroys have seen their day), one set of courts, and Eelia's/Pam's Irish. 14. Do you carry a blade? Eating knife, in my basket. For some reason the secret thrill of having a dagger stuffed down the front of my bodice faded when I turned 21. 15. Have you been flogged? No, but very nearly keel-hauled. Is this part of the pirate theme? 16. When was your virgin year? I was a virgin for more than one year. 17. Who originally introduced you to Faire? Some ad on the radio sucked me in. 18. Have you been drunk at ale stand zero before ever entering Faire? I don't drink at ale stands. 19. Ever gotten a henna tat? No, but I'm open to recommendations. 20. Had your hair braided? I braid my own hair. 21. Do you use a tankard cover? On my goblet? That would be a tad silly. 22. Do you have pockets? Ladies carry pockets in the 18th century. I have a pouch. And a basket, in which said pouch reposes. 23. After seeing what happened to TruBBle, will you tell anyone it's your birthday? Who? <cocks head to one side in utter incomprehension> 24. Do you carry a cell phone where it can be seen? I don't carry one in costume. 25. Will you shed part of your costume if it's hot? If exceptionally hot, my gloves. Once or twice, sleeves at the last hour of the day. 26. Do you want an article off of someone else costume? Yes, everyone please give me your left shoe. 27. Ever had a run-in with security? Never. But *insecurity*, that's another matter. 28. Do you bother with Faire-speak? It's no bother. Early modern English is prettier than what we speak here and now. 29. Have you been on either end of the blue ribbon? I have been on the south end of a northbound blue ribbon. Hrrrm? 30. What do you carry on you, that most other people probably do not? Depends on the day. An inhaler, a set of brass dice, a book-cover to embroider in case I absolutely must sit down. 31. Is sunscreen a normal part of your costume? Sunscreen is all that stands between me and skin cancer. 32. What color is your shirt? White with blackwork at the collar and cuffs.

Intruder Kitty is intruding!

elspeth — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 14:56:41 GMT

Last night I was woken at about 3 a.m. by an uncharacteristic amount of fussing kitty noises, including some hissing and odd scratching. Got out of bed and went into the home office/spare bedroom to find a kitty face *outside* the screened window. In my half-asleep state, it looked like my Franki (the Walsingham cat) had somehow gotten outside (which there is no way for her to do) since bedtime and was trying to claw her way back into the house. There was a head and part of a paw in when I got there, so the hole-clawing had gotten pretty far. So I went to the window, slid the screen up, and reached out to grab Franki and bring her in the house. Took me two tries to get my hands around her, and she was resisting coming in, which is unusual. And besides, something felt wrong. In fact, as my eyes cleared more, something began to look wrong. Specifically the eyes. Franki has amber-yellow eyes, these were amber-brown, although the rest of the face was the same. And this cat was thicker in my hands, just a little, with shorter forelegs. When I got it halfway into the house, I saw the markings on its sides - close, identical colors, but this was an agate tabby, not an agate/striped tabby. WOW! Wrong cat! Intruder Kitty alert! Now I am awake. Quickly I shoved the Intruder Kitty back out the window, closed the screen and the glass window for good measure. When I turned around, I saw Franki watching me from under the futon-sofa, where she had been standing off / hiding from the would-be intruder. (Willi, the Cecil cat, was just sitting in the middle of the room the whole time. She has a great confidence in the protective power of The House, and I'm sure never believed for a moment that Intruder Kitty would make it past the insuperable Screen.) I'm seen Intruder Kitty around the neighborhood before, and noticed how nearly identical he is to Franki. He doesn't wear a collar, and I have no idea where he lives. (I think he's a he, though I don't know why.) Now here's my dilemma: Intruder Kitty lost interest when I closed the glass window behind the screen, but I can't keep all the windows closed at night, now that the warm time of year is started. I don't want Intruder Kitty in my house, because my cats run from him outside, so I think he may not be so friendly to them as he is to me. I also can't afford to go through more window screens -- those things are $30 apiece! -- and he can clearly make his way through them with some effort. So I am fairly flummoxed. Any ideas?

You can't buy this shirt!

elspeth — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 15:32:02 GMT

Shirt.woot.com is sold out of "Finding Technicolor," today's shirt-of-the-day. Damn you, David Creighton-Pester, for designing such a desirable yet unattainable item! I have been back nearly a week, and somehow too busy to put together tales of far Italy, although I have started to sort out photos now, a few at a time. It feels too big to wrap my head around and distill into words, so it may have been a formative experience. Or a reformative one. Seriously, last month feels like light-years ago, and I still wake up every morning a little dizzy. At last, spring has sprung in earnest. This weekend I peat-potted 100 seed sets for flowers, vegetables, and herbs. They are all residing on my kitchen counters in Ferry-Morse mini-greenhouses, we'll see what sprouts when. I am also battling ants and house centipedes of varying sizes, trying not to poison myself or the cats in the process. The ants have numbers on their side, but I have size and chemicals, so victory, however temporary, is assured. In lieu of stories, here's a sampling of things I read or heard this week that made me laugh or go "Woot!" *********************************** "But the schlub-hottie pairings that have become ubiquitous on screen lately also reinforce a dreary double standard. Guys are permitted to be flabby, lazy emotional wrecks, but as long as they crack jokes, some action will come their way. Girls, ideally, should have a sense of humor — mainly so they can laugh at those jokes — but for the most part they should look good in a bikini and like sex (though not too much and not anything too weird)." -- A.O. Scott, New York Times review of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" "We are instinctively all too greedy for praise, and there is no sound or song that comes sweeter to our ears; praise, like Sirens' voices, is the kind of music that causes shipwreck to the man who does not stop his ears to its deceptive harmony. Recognizing this danger, some of the philosophers of the ancient world wrote books giving advice on how a man can tell the difference between a true friend and a flatterer. Even so, we may well ask what use is this, seeing that there are so many who realize perfectly well that they are listening to flattery, and yet love the flatterer and detest the one who tells them the truth. Indeed, very often, deciding that the one who praises them is not being fulsome enough, they lend him a hand themselves and say such things that even the most outrageous flatterer feels ashamed." -- Baldesar Castiglione, The Book of the Courtier "No, you're not *there*. If I'm gonna be alone, I wanna be by myself." -- Marilyn Monroe to her reconciliation-seeking soon-to-be-ex-husband in "The Misfits" "There is beauty in simplicity." - Fortune Cookie #1 "The simplest answer is to act." - Fortune Cookie #2 "Sexy television commercials notwithstanding, Axe body spray does not make you smell irresistible. On the contrary, it makes you smell like rubbing alcohol and pickle juice. Hot chicks would prefer it if you smelled like soap, and you can smell like this simply by taking a shower every morning. The only thing Axe body spray might be good for is masking the odor of your acne medication. Of course, you wouldn't need quite so much acne medication if you smelled more like soap." -- Angry Professor, blogging in A Gentleman's C ***********************************