'Burnin'

I set up a haircut appointment for next Friday (e.g., my birthday), and not a moment too soon! Again, I keep getting acknowledgments from hipsters, who (I gather) appreciate my werewolfesque sideburns at the moment. Like I saw Hipster Moe on the bus yesterday, on the commute home, and he nodded a greeting before putting on his oversized shades. He's wearing his Chuckies, has his ratty plaid shirt, his scruffy jacket, his messenger bag, his stubble, his big shades, and is reading some esoteric book. And there's me, with my messenger bag, my scruffy face and burns, my pewter loafers, my tan jacket with the plaid interior, busy writing longhand in one of my many notebooks. Hipster Moe appeared particularly interested in that -- probably the combination of me writing and writing longhand fit his conception of what one ought to be doing. Not sure. Anyway, I'll keep the 'burns after the haircut, but they'll be less Wolverine-looking, more restrained.

Nothing else jumped out at me yesterday, except that spring is in full flower in Chicagoland, which means women wearing their spring fashions -- the flowers are blooming in the city! There really are two schools of dress in Chicago in spring, among the womenfolk: 1) the Flowers, who defiantly go full-on spring in their attire; and 2) the Diehards, who hew to the more restrained hues of winter, as if they are unsure whether spring is actually here (they can be identified by shades of black, grey, and brown in their attire, usually in jeans). I can't honestly fault either group -- they're both right. Spring IS here, and, it being Chicago, it also means a good snow is likely still around the bend before Winter finally flees.

Today, it's sunny and lovely, although cool. I had the boys so well-dressed yesterday, they looked adorable -- B1 in a white button-down with blue stripes, a navy blue Polo sweater vest, blue jeans, and brown loafers; B2 in a kelly green Polo pullover sweater and jeans with white sneakers. They looked adorable. Both boys are such cuties.

I was tickled -- walking them to their babysitter this morning, B1 was talking to me about bioluminescence. I love to hear my 8-year-old using such big words! He's so sharp! I think he'll likely trend toward engineering or architecture or medicine or something like that when he's older. He just seems to have that blend in him. I try to keep an eye on that, what he enjoys. B2 is a born performer -- I can see him being a natural in almost any sport he wants, because he's naturally athletic, but he's also very smart, loves to cook, and loves singing and acting. He's likely to be an entertainer/performer type in some fashion, although we'll see.

A Pict Picking Pix

So, I went through some of my pictures, narrowed my selection to about 60 pictures, then culled down to 34, then 29, then 10, then six, and now have my top four selected for the competition. I think they're all strong shots, have a good chance of advancing (?) -- although we'll see. With my luck, I don't know. Truly cannot get my hopes up, but I'm going to try, anyway.

Gonna get a haircut sometime this week -- my springtime ritual, shedding my wintertime locks. My hair's not long, as I've said; it's just shaggy. Getting some white hairs creeping into my generally auburn sideburns! Hey! That's alright. It works. It's all good.

10 days until I turn 40. Ooooh! Truly, I'm about twice as happy at 40 as I was at 38, or 36, or even 27 -- not precisely where I need to be, but I'd like to think I'm on the on-ramp to Happy.

I have a lot to say about that -- life, love, love of life, a life of love, all of that -- but I'm at work ("Where Fun Comes to Die"), so I'll get to that later. I'm thinking a bit about the "Bohemian values" articulated in "Moulin Rouge"(of all places) -- Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love, and what that means, exactly. Is all love that you feel true love? Are there shades of it? Degrees? It seems contrary to the idea of True Love for it to be a matter of degree -- like you're filling a tub with water, a little hot, a little cold, getting the temperature just right. That doesn't seem at all romantic. I don't think True Love can be controlled -- you either know True Love, or you don't. I have known people who are honestly "love-avoidant" -- like it's an alien idea to them. Or they love/hate themselves too much to actually open their hearts to True Love. Too much of either can blind you to it. But enough yammering for now.

Sun-Day

Yesterday was very sunny. Nice day, weatherwise. I took the bus to Target, kind of a test run in my post-car-owning days. No problems -- took maybe 1.5 hours, all told (e.g., getting out there, shopping, returning). And going that way kept me from buying TOO much there (although I still topped out at $114 -- I maintain that I can't go to Target without exceeding $100 in purchases, no matter my original intent).

The bus ride was fun; it's so good for people-watching, I can't help but be amused. This father and his little daughter, the latter who kept playing with her sunglasses and dropping them, and he kept picking them up. It was cute, just the exchanged glances, the private smiles. A little game.

Saw a platinum blonde Trixie in shades with a black wool overcoat, black and white striped miniskirt, black hose, black open-toe high heels that looked like they were part felt (?), light gray scarf, burgundy fingernails (and toenails). She was absently chewing some very bright blue gum and reading Ayn Rand's "Three Plays." Ayn Rand? I always hate seeing people read Ayn Rand. Bogus intellectual. Rotten writer. Trixie actually rode on both of my buses -- I got off the first bus and waited at another stop, and then got on my connecting bus, and there was Trixie again, cracking her gum and reading her Rand (moving her lips now and again while reading).

Preppy gay guy sat nearby and gave me a couple of searching glances, seeing if I was game. His look was so retro-preppy I wanted to snicker -- I remember kids in high school prepped out like that. He reminded me of a former classmate (J. P.), who always worked that preppy look to the max. Sort of an amusing image.

My hair is pretty shaggy -- I haven't gotten it cut over the winter; just thick-haired to keep warm! My sideburns are lupine at the moment! I'm sure I'll bite the bullet and get a cut soon, but not yet. Maybe later this month.

I did some spring cleaning around the apartment, cleaned the inside and outside of the windows, which needed it badly. Satisfying to get them all cleaned up. Watched "Apollo 13" with my boys -- B1 loved it (as I knew he would). He wanted to watch it again, so I put it on later in the evening, and ordered "The Right Stuff" for him to watch, too. Anything with rockets and space, I tellya.

The whole Apollo 13 incident happened right before (and when) I was born. Like they splashed down the day after I was born.

I think I'm finally over my cold of the last couple of weeks -- just a tiny bit of it left.

Oh, I refined my White Spaghetti recipe last night -- used rotini with it, instead! I did so because I didn't have any spaghetti in stock, but I did have some rotini (I always have a strategic reserve of pasta in-house -- I told B1 "I never say 'basta!' to pasta!" and he asked what 'basta' meant, and I told him, included the accompanying hand gesture, which is almost instinctive). I'm happy to report that the rotini worked perfectly, actually better than the spaghetti I typically use. I could see Exene trying to process it and I said "What, you're going to try to assimilate that recipe, claim it for your own?" and she said "I'll give proper credit for it." and I said "Yeah, right." She'll never be able to properly replicate it, because she doesn't know all the ingredients that go into it. It takes a certain culinary nuance to get it just right. B1 actually tried some of it, which was nice, although he was skittish about the fresh diced flat-leaf parsley that was in it.

I'm going to get some writing done today.