B FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT
Constantly. Torture. I try to tune it out, but it's almost impossible to.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Horny
Constantly. Torture. I try to tune it out, but it's almost impossible to.
Weekend Worrier
I wasn't as impressed with the Old Town Art Fair (OTAF) this year as I've been in previous years. I don't know if the jury composition changed or what, but there were too many jewelry makers there, and there was way too much meh 2D Mixed Media. I don't object to 2D Mixed Media, but it should be "Wow!" and not "Meh." Still, I always enjoy ambling around the OTAF and seeing what's going on.
I've been encouraging B1 to read to his brother. B2 loves to read, but B1 is more reluctant to do so, trends toward nonfiction. I try to have him read some nonfiction and fiction daily, so he can (hopefully) get into the habit more. His baby brother loves to, but can't properly read, yet (although he really wants to). So, I've been having B1 read to his baby brother, and it's adorable to watch them curled up together with a book. I ordered (and just received) "Icarus at the Edge of Time" by Brian Greene, which is a retelling of the Icarus myth with a black hole in place of the sun -- it's right up B1's alley, and I can't wait for him to see it. He'll love it.
Our old cat is dying. I took his sister to the vet a few years ago -- she was my cat, and her brother was Exene's cat. Anyway, after 18 years, his number's finally up. I told Exene it was on her to take him to the vet's, since I'd done that with his sister, when she was dying. So, predictably, she didn't do anything all weekend, and poor cat's condition worsened. I tried to take care of him, but he's suffering from terminal renal failure, which is common with old cats. He's conducted himself with rather amazing grace, just trying to keep it together, cat-style, but it's still very sad. Exene finally called the vet's this morning, and is going to take him after work. I'm annoyed at how she dithered on that. The moment he got to the point of no return, she should've taken him in, rather than waiting four+ days to tend to it. *headshake*
I've been encouraging B1 to read to his brother. B2 loves to read, but B1 is more reluctant to do so, trends toward nonfiction. I try to have him read some nonfiction and fiction daily, so he can (hopefully) get into the habit more. His baby brother loves to, but can't properly read, yet (although he really wants to). So, I've been having B1 read to his baby brother, and it's adorable to watch them curled up together with a book. I ordered (and just received) "Icarus at the Edge of Time" by Brian Greene, which is a retelling of the Icarus myth with a black hole in place of the sun -- it's right up B1's alley, and I can't wait for him to see it. He'll love it.
Our old cat is dying. I took his sister to the vet a few years ago -- she was my cat, and her brother was Exene's cat. Anyway, after 18 years, his number's finally up. I told Exene it was on her to take him to the vet's, since I'd done that with his sister, when she was dying. So, predictably, she didn't do anything all weekend, and poor cat's condition worsened. I tried to take care of him, but he's suffering from terminal renal failure, which is common with old cats. He's conducted himself with rather amazing grace, just trying to keep it together, cat-style, but it's still very sad. Exene finally called the vet's this morning, and is going to take him after work. I'm annoyed at how she dithered on that. The moment he got to the point of no return, she should've taken him in, rather than waiting four+ days to tend to it. *headshake*
Sunday, June 13, 2010
400,000
I heard on NPR the other day that Ohio has lost 400,000 jobs over the past four years. That's a lot of jobs gone. It has something like a 10.8% unemployment rate. The Republicans have really buggered that poor state.
The World Cup is fun so far. Ghana won their match with Serbia, Germany smoked the Aussies (4 - 0 -- ouch), Slovenia squeaked by Algeria (1 - 0), and of course the US tied with England. I think England and the US will smoke Slovenia and Algeria (they're in the same group), so things are looking good for the US.
It rained a lot today. I went to the Old Town Art Fair, will comment more on that later, as I need a shower (so humid and rainy today, I feel like I'm in some kind of temperate rain forest!
The World Cup is fun so far. Ghana won their match with Serbia, Germany smoked the Aussies (4 - 0 -- ouch), Slovenia squeaked by Algeria (1 - 0), and of course the US tied with England. I think England and the US will smoke Slovenia and Algeria (they're in the same group), so things are looking good for the US.
It rained a lot today. I went to the Old Town Art Fair, will comment more on that later, as I need a shower (so humid and rainy today, I feel like I'm in some kind of temperate rain forest!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Buffalo Chicken?
I had bought some bison burgers last week, cooked'em up. I made a couple today, and, on a whim, I later made my kickass BBQ sauce in the same pan, using the grease (of which there isn't much -- bison is pretty lean) as the shortening for the recipe, instead of the usual. I liked the idea of using the savory from the bison in the BBQ sauce. It tastes extra-yummy! I slathered it on the chicken and it's cooking right now, making the place smell yummy!
In other news...
England 1
USA 1
Awwwoo! A draw!
In other news...
England 1
USA 1
Awwwoo! A draw!
Who Killed the Electric Car?
I watched "Who Killed the Electric Car?" last night, on a whim. I usually avoid documentaries like that because it just gets my blood boiling. And this was no exception -- it's a good documentary, and they lay it out methodically. It's a clear case of an automobile company sabotaging and scuttling one of their own products in the interest of serving Big Oil. It just kills me, because the EV1 was clearly a cutting-edge vehicle. 100% electric battery-powered, no emissions, fast and powerful, it was a real forward step. GM had the opportunity to corner the market on a new and exciting product, and they backed away from it and, instead, went with SUVs. And not only did they scuttled the EV1, but they took them all back from folks who leased them and had them all crushed and impounded on a GM lot! Amazing. Near as I can tell (although this isn't explained in the movie, I'm just theorizing, here) they realized they weren't going forward with electric cars, and they didn't want the EV1s out there to 1) show that electric cars were desirable and realizable, and 2) potentially be snagged by competitors and reverse-engineered, giving a competitor access to a fine electric car that they had no intention of mass-marketing.
In the wake of the Gulf Disaster, the open wound in the world that it represents, this documentary is a must-see, because you really see how Big Oil calls the tune in our country. It's especially fascinating to see the damning appraisal of hybrids and hydrogen fuel cell cars -- both of which are blind alleys intended to keep gasoline front-and-center. Fuel cell cars are inordinately expensive, relative to electric cars, and are, even in the best-case scenario, a stopgap technology. There's been plenty of money poured into them, and they're still a prohibitive blind alley -- compared with that, the electric cars are a far-cheaper, user-friendlier real-world alternative.
Anyway, the movie shows a clear case of companies acting against their long-term economic interest and actually foregoing commanding market share because of the easy, oily money being made in the here-and-now. And how they will work tirelessly to ensure that emission-free electric cars don't displace the gas-guzzlers anytime soon.
Amazing stuff, well worth a viewing, but if you have an iota of liberal and progressive values in your heart, it'll piss you off.
It's also staggering to see that the first electric cars appeared in 1897.
In the wake of the Gulf Disaster, the open wound in the world that it represents, this documentary is a must-see, because you really see how Big Oil calls the tune in our country. It's especially fascinating to see the damning appraisal of hybrids and hydrogen fuel cell cars -- both of which are blind alleys intended to keep gasoline front-and-center. Fuel cell cars are inordinately expensive, relative to electric cars, and are, even in the best-case scenario, a stopgap technology. There's been plenty of money poured into them, and they're still a prohibitive blind alley -- compared with that, the electric cars are a far-cheaper, user-friendlier real-world alternative.
Anyway, the movie shows a clear case of companies acting against their long-term economic interest and actually foregoing commanding market share because of the easy, oily money being made in the here-and-now. And how they will work tirelessly to ensure that emission-free electric cars don't displace the gas-guzzlers anytime soon.
Amazing stuff, well worth a viewing, but if you have an iota of liberal and progressive values in your heart, it'll piss you off.
It's also staggering to see that the first electric cars appeared in 1897.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Drink: Hey, There
Cocktail recipe...
Hey, There
2 jiggers Coconut Rum
3 dashes Bitters
V8 Fusion (Strawberry-Banana)
Ice
1 spear of mango
Fill Collins glass with crushed ice. Then add Rum and bitters. Then pour V8 Fusion. Stir. Garnish with a spear of mango.
Hey, There
2 jiggers Coconut Rum
3 dashes Bitters
V8 Fusion (Strawberry-Banana)
Ice
1 spear of mango
Fill Collins glass with crushed ice. Then add Rum and bitters. Then pour V8 Fusion. Stir. Garnish with a spear of mango.
Today
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Weekend
This weekend, let's see... Tomorrow: take the boys to the ticker tape parade tomorrow for the Blackhawks, since I've never been to a ticker tape parade before, and the boys certainly have never seen one, so that should be fun. Then start watching the World Cup (Yay! Yeah, right -- most of the episodes are on ESPN, which I don't have).
Saturday, B1's last soccer game. And then either (or both) Saturday and/or Sunday, take the boys to the 61st annual Old Town Art Fair. Also, I think the US team plays at the World Cup Saturday, so watching that, too, if it's broadcast.
England vs. USA (2 p.m. EST on ABC)
Nothing solid planned Sunday. I'm gonna try to get that damnable screenplay done and out the door, so I can move onto my next writing project. Probably a grocery run in the mix, too.
Saturday, B1's last soccer game. And then either (or both) Saturday and/or Sunday, take the boys to the 61st annual Old Town Art Fair. Also, I think the US team plays at the World Cup Saturday, so watching that, too, if it's broadcast.
England vs. USA (2 p.m. EST on ABC)
Nothing solid planned Sunday. I'm gonna try to get that damnable screenplay done and out the door, so I can move onto my next writing project. Probably a grocery run in the mix, too.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Tallboys
The boys have grown since I last measured them in May! Like a half-inch for B2, and a quarter-inch for B1!
B1: 4'6.5"
B2: 3'7.5"
They're growing and growing!
B1: 4'6.5"
B2: 3'7.5"
They're growing and growing!
Whew (2)
Yesterday's diatribe was my 400th post on this particular blog. Just carrying a lot of emotional pain, alas. I roll with most everything in life, but there are a few things that are just too painful to roll with, and he's one of those things. I swear, the past couple of years have been packed with emotional pain! Good timing! It can only get better, I think. Move forward, onward, upward. That kinda thing. Try to stay productive, get writing done, get Exene the hell out of my mix (the dire economy of 2008-09, the Great Recession, really, really made those years dreadful), and find the fun and the happy. Get my own little place, move forward. I have discovered that I can handle a lot of emotional pain and remain functional; something I didn't realize I had that in me.
I've been watching Season 1 of "The Wire" -- good show. I don't generally like cop shows, but it's entertaining. HBO typically has it sewn up, those dramas. The absence of ad breaks and the ability to follow stories from episode to episode (versus having it wrap up in an hour), it makes a big difference. Good stuff.
I've been watching Season 1 of "The Wire" -- good show. I don't generally like cop shows, but it's entertaining. HBO typically has it sewn up, those dramas. The absence of ad breaks and the ability to follow stories from episode to episode (versus having it wrap up in an hour), it makes a big difference. Good stuff.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Whew
Man. Blogger was down and I was unable to blog for about 24 hours. Not sure what that was about.
My biological father is dying. I didn't find this out from him directly, but from one of my half-sisters, who thought I'd known about it. But she was closer to him than I ever was -- he was a rotten dad. So much of who I am comes from reacting against who he is, finding the way to Good by understanding the Bad, where parenting is concerned. Not everybody's cut out to be a parent, I guess, which is about the most charitable thing I can say. It's weird for me, because his ghost has been with me since my folks divorced in 1975, and I've found my way without really ever understanding what of him was in me (besides height and smarts). I don't know, because he was singularly guarded about everything that he was, and you could never be sure you were getting a straight answer from him or not. The emotions I remember most with him are those of reproach, guilt, fear, anger -- I remember pain and hurt. I remember him locking me out of the house and taunting me from the other side of the screened door and saying that I couldn't get inside to see my mom. This was me at four or five years of age. I can still see it and hear it, me crying and furious and him mocking from the kitchen. One of many happy memories. I asked my mom about that and other things, what it was all about, and she theorized that maybe he was jealous, because he realized she liked me more than him, and he took it out on me. Not sure.
I remember always packing a handful of quarters (for a telephone) and a pocket knife (for self-defense) and being sure the door was unlocked on the car, and mentally rehearsing what I'd do if he tried to kidnap me -- I was always afraid he'd try to kidnap me and take me from my mom and stepdad. I remember him being willing and able to ruin absolutely everything he touched, taking the fun and joy right out of anything. If a good dad makes their kids feel wanted and loved, he was most definitely a bad, bad dad. Plenty of stories about that I've kept inside. I learned my lesson and am very good at being a daddy; my boys cherish me, and it's because I'm always there for them, I never hurt them, I always listen to them, I treat them with love and kindness and respect and I let them know how special they are to me. I read to them, and almost never raise my voice (sidenote: B1 commented over the weekend that he liked that I don't "overyell," like mommy does). My boys know their daddy loves them, and they take solace and comfort in that. I'm there for them until my dying day. My own father never, ever was. I don't even think he really wanted to be a father. I last saw him when I was 26, when he cycled up to Chicago without so much as a heads-up that he was approaching; before then, I saw him when I was 18. So, we haven't been close. It's been 14 years since I last physically saw him. In many ways, the ghost of who he is has been with me my whole life, more so than the flesh-and-blood man, and that's actually a good thing.
If you want some sense of him, take Johnny Cash (esp. the voice; he loved Johnny Cash -- I can't heard Johnny Cash without thinking of that, him listening to that), Tony Randall (esp. the fussy, pretentious, I'm Smarter Than You manner), and Peter Sellers (esp. the inaccessible weirdness) and blend them. He looks like a fusion of them, and acts like them all, in truth. I can't even watch this clip of Tony Randall without seeing him. Looks like him, and just acts like him...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-u8lcqwXjs
Without letting on that I knew he was dying, I sent him some recent pix of the boys (and myself). A small kindness. I wrote to him about the boys, their prospects, who they are. He wrote back a comment about how B1 looked like he had a date with an orthodontist in his future. It hurt. I'm trying to be kind, and he's slamming his own grandson? This in his last days? Give me a fucking break. And yet, it's so him. He's an emotional trainwreck -- he couldn't even show proper love to his own child, which should be the most natural human emotion a person can express, right?
Anyway, his days are literally numbered (what that number is, I don't precisely know). I'm not going to see him. There is no closure that can be gained with him -- what's he going to say? That he feels sorry he was so rotten to me when he was my dad? If he even sees that, can even get that? I don't know. He was hateful and hurtful. I know that I historically have better relationships with women than men, and I know it's because of him -- I would often be afraid of people's dads when I was a kid, and it's because, early on, I learned to be very wary around dads, because of him, of what he did. I remember hurt after hurt after hurt. I was trying to divine a good memory, and the closest I could come up with was around 1975, and me making a Lego house, working hard to make it wonderful, a model of our unhappy home (and it was very unhappy -- I remember my parents loudly arguing then, and being afraid of that). I heard him coming home, and I ran to show him what I'd made, my Lego house, and I tripped and fell and dropped the Lego house, and, of course, it broke to bits, and I was crushed that it had broken before he'd seen it. And he yelled about me making a mess in the kitchen, and I just cleaned it up. I remember riding on the back of one of his motorcycles (he always had motorcycles) and enjoying that, until I realized that I'd rested my foot on the tailpipe of the cycle, and it had melted the rubber of my shoe on the tailpipe, and he was furious about that, took me censoriously to task for that. That's about as close to a "good" memory as I have with him. He could take the fun and joy out of absolutely everything.
I grew up resolving to be better than he was, and I think I have, at least as far as being a parent is concerned. I try to find the fun and the joy in the world around me. I've succeeded in that, at least, but that's not because of him. People who know me and see me with my boys always marvel at how good a parent I am, but it's a very conscious reaction to what I experienced, doing the opposite of what he did, and banishing that ghost as best as I can.
Vae Victis.
My biological father is dying. I didn't find this out from him directly, but from one of my half-sisters, who thought I'd known about it. But she was closer to him than I ever was -- he was a rotten dad. So much of who I am comes from reacting against who he is, finding the way to Good by understanding the Bad, where parenting is concerned. Not everybody's cut out to be a parent, I guess, which is about the most charitable thing I can say. It's weird for me, because his ghost has been with me since my folks divorced in 1975, and I've found my way without really ever understanding what of him was in me (besides height and smarts). I don't know, because he was singularly guarded about everything that he was, and you could never be sure you were getting a straight answer from him or not. The emotions I remember most with him are those of reproach, guilt, fear, anger -- I remember pain and hurt. I remember him locking me out of the house and taunting me from the other side of the screened door and saying that I couldn't get inside to see my mom. This was me at four or five years of age. I can still see it and hear it, me crying and furious and him mocking from the kitchen. One of many happy memories. I asked my mom about that and other things, what it was all about, and she theorized that maybe he was jealous, because he realized she liked me more than him, and he took it out on me. Not sure.
I remember always packing a handful of quarters (for a telephone) and a pocket knife (for self-defense) and being sure the door was unlocked on the car, and mentally rehearsing what I'd do if he tried to kidnap me -- I was always afraid he'd try to kidnap me and take me from my mom and stepdad. I remember him being willing and able to ruin absolutely everything he touched, taking the fun and joy right out of anything. If a good dad makes their kids feel wanted and loved, he was most definitely a bad, bad dad. Plenty of stories about that I've kept inside. I learned my lesson and am very good at being a daddy; my boys cherish me, and it's because I'm always there for them, I never hurt them, I always listen to them, I treat them with love and kindness and respect and I let them know how special they are to me. I read to them, and almost never raise my voice (sidenote: B1 commented over the weekend that he liked that I don't "overyell," like mommy does). My boys know their daddy loves them, and they take solace and comfort in that. I'm there for them until my dying day. My own father never, ever was. I don't even think he really wanted to be a father. I last saw him when I was 26, when he cycled up to Chicago without so much as a heads-up that he was approaching; before then, I saw him when I was 18. So, we haven't been close. It's been 14 years since I last physically saw him. In many ways, the ghost of who he is has been with me my whole life, more so than the flesh-and-blood man, and that's actually a good thing.
If you want some sense of him, take Johnny Cash (esp. the voice; he loved Johnny Cash -- I can't heard Johnny Cash without thinking of that, him listening to that), Tony Randall (esp. the fussy, pretentious, I'm Smarter Than You manner), and Peter Sellers (esp. the inaccessible weirdness) and blend them. He looks like a fusion of them, and acts like them all, in truth. I can't even watch this clip of Tony Randall without seeing him. Looks like him, and just acts like him...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-u8lcqwXjs
Without letting on that I knew he was dying, I sent him some recent pix of the boys (and myself). A small kindness. I wrote to him about the boys, their prospects, who they are. He wrote back a comment about how B1 looked like he had a date with an orthodontist in his future. It hurt. I'm trying to be kind, and he's slamming his own grandson? This in his last days? Give me a fucking break. And yet, it's so him. He's an emotional trainwreck -- he couldn't even show proper love to his own child, which should be the most natural human emotion a person can express, right?
Anyway, his days are literally numbered (what that number is, I don't precisely know). I'm not going to see him. There is no closure that can be gained with him -- what's he going to say? That he feels sorry he was so rotten to me when he was my dad? If he even sees that, can even get that? I don't know. He was hateful and hurtful. I know that I historically have better relationships with women than men, and I know it's because of him -- I would often be afraid of people's dads when I was a kid, and it's because, early on, I learned to be very wary around dads, because of him, of what he did. I remember hurt after hurt after hurt. I was trying to divine a good memory, and the closest I could come up with was around 1975, and me making a Lego house, working hard to make it wonderful, a model of our unhappy home (and it was very unhappy -- I remember my parents loudly arguing then, and being afraid of that). I heard him coming home, and I ran to show him what I'd made, my Lego house, and I tripped and fell and dropped the Lego house, and, of course, it broke to bits, and I was crushed that it had broken before he'd seen it. And he yelled about me making a mess in the kitchen, and I just cleaned it up. I remember riding on the back of one of his motorcycles (he always had motorcycles) and enjoying that, until I realized that I'd rested my foot on the tailpipe of the cycle, and it had melted the rubber of my shoe on the tailpipe, and he was furious about that, took me censoriously to task for that. That's about as close to a "good" memory as I have with him. He could take the fun and joy out of absolutely everything.
I grew up resolving to be better than he was, and I think I have, at least as far as being a parent is concerned. I try to find the fun and the joy in the world around me. I've succeeded in that, at least, but that's not because of him. People who know me and see me with my boys always marvel at how good a parent I am, but it's a very conscious reaction to what I experienced, doing the opposite of what he did, and banishing that ghost as best as I can.
Vae Victis.
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