All In The Family

Why did the members of my mother's family of origin lead such interesting, well, in some cases tumultuous, and often melodramatic lives? I like to think it was for the express purpose of providing fodder for future generations of writers. Like me. And my cousin Cory. Who writes plays which have actually been produced. He also writes short stories and, like me, has a novel (or three) languishing in various stages of completion. He launched his website today. So if you truly are the very smart and curious individual I know you to be, go here and take a look. No, I'm not getting a cut of any possible profits that may be generated. I'm enjoying basking in the glory of having such a talented young man in the family. Maybe hedging just a little to someday snag a role in one of his productions. Especially if such a role is based on moi. It's a family thing.

Amen

Culture in Columbus, Part Two

The library at Ohio State University is pretty cool. An interesting architectural blending of the old and the new.

Statues, we must have statues. And books. And lamps. and interesting molding and friezework and dentils and dimples. And stuff.

And airy, well-lit areas for students and lounging and more books and reading.

And arched, fancy ceilings with uplights.

Throughout the library are these metal plates showing many various methods of language and communication. Music is a language! Somebody play these notes and tell me what the tune is.

Clearly this is the alphabet or some current or former language. I haven't been able to figure out what it is yet. I wanted to post the photo of Runes but it was too glare-ish. Ooooohhhh! Until I figure out what this alphabet represents, we're calling it the Glareish language. Written and spoken by the Glareish people of Middle Europe. The Glares are a lost tribe and sadly, no native speakers of the language survived into the modern age.

And here we have our own familiar English alphabet. You're singing, aren't you?

Culture in Columbus, Part One

Cory hauled me all over Columbus exposing me to multiple cultural experiences. The first stop was the Wexner Center For The Arts on the campus of Ohio State University. On display were the photographs of Catherine Opie. The exhibit was titled Portraits and Landscapes. I rather enjoyed her work, probably because some of it is morbid and creepy in tone. For instance, what is at first glance a portrait of an attractive human, then you look again and there is blood strategically placed in the image. There were lots of serious staff people all over the place. Dressed in blazers and all aloof. I didn't bring my camera in. That's the sort of thing that always gets me in trouble. Also on display were paintings created by Jack Whitten over a fifty year period. I enjoyed the chunky nature of some of the works that incorporated unexpected objects. I often think of myself as an impatient person, but there is something about the hushed nature of an art exhibit that makes time slow down for me. For that I am grateful.
 

Brittney's Castle

Britt lives in this adorable house. It looks like a tiny castle. I think it would be even cooler with a moat.

I love this special little alcove that houses the antique telephone. I expect if a knight in shining armor was to call, he would know the number.

It looks like a castle on the inside, too. There was no fire this day. It would have compromised the air conditioning.

Project China Run Amok

Beige carpet in the living room. Something called Oatmeal Beige in the stairwell and on the walls of the family room downstairs. Beige, beige, beige. Even my toenails have turned beige. Where will it end?

Tomato #1

Remember this?

It turned into this. It was delicious.

-RLA Revisited

Remember this? Well, I sure as hell do! I have been perseverating the second syllable of my Egyptian name for days, and it just clicked with me why! In my fave Margaret Atwood novel, The Robber Bride, one of the three primary characters, Roz, has twin daughters. They are named Erin and Paula. They refer to their collective selves in the third person as Erla. RLA. My brain hurts.

Floating

I know y'all have been wondering what my chosen super hero power would be. After painting the stairwell this past week and looking forward to cleaning out the rain gutters today, I would have to say levitation. Of both me and large objects. Whatever application suits the situation. This will come in handy once moving day rolls around. I'm not willing to have a near-death experience, some kind of weird tumor, or to live near a Superfund site to achieve this power. I just want it. I promise to use it for good.

Sleepy's a Dwarf, Too

I am claiming Bloated as my signature witch. Mostly because I really love the hat. Let's please not begin to discuss dietary fiber. Sister Pam has chosen Forgetful as her fave. Personally, I enjoy the horns and the redhead connection. Sister Martine had best chime in and choose before we bestow Bitchy upon her. We are not new to nicknames. Or witches, for that matter.

Is There an Egyptian Speaker in the House?

The first time I did this I got Goddess Sensual. I would like to see the hieroglyphic version, please. This has been your bogus, click bait test for today.

Trivia!

Bonus points to anyone who can answer this! What movie did the previous post's title come from? And does anyone else hear the final Jeopardy waiting music playing?

The Dodgy End

I don't believe I have ever heard of a person with the first name Dodge. Car? Yes. City? Yes. Street? Yes. But never a person. But now, two evenings and two movies in a row, there is a character named Dodge. Last night it was Steve Carell's character in Seeking a Friend for the End of the World. And just now, in Next Stop Wonderland, a character who may have been relegated to the cutting room floor has been mentioned. His name? Dodge. Pardon me while I get on with the movie.

Furry Babies

From nine years ago, around this time in August. Baby Newt and Steinie. I still miss Steinie so much but am less apt to burst into tears at the mention of his name. Happy that Newt is still with us. 

Such a Deal

Please buy my lovely home. It's time for me to downsize and move on. I'll throw in this furniture if you insist.

Your Tax Dollars at Work

Last week as I was approaching the Exit 127 ramp off of I-29, I noticed that I was being followed. As I customarily do, when I passed the sign informing me of the upcoming exit in one mile a minute or so earlier, I popped off the cruise control to slow down. Despite the fact that the speed limit on South Dakota's interstate highways was increased as of June first this year to eighty miles per hour, I simply have not felt the need to go faster. I continue to lock the cruise in at seventy-five out of habit. Imagine my surprise after signaling left and coming to a full stop at the end of the ramp that I was still being followed quite closely. Imagine my further surprise when colorful, flashing lights went off on the roof of said car along with a burst of siren noise. I was pulled over. Purportedly for speeding. I was mystified but cooperative. I eventually received a warning for speeding, having in my possession an invalid registration (which was made valid in short order when I affixed my signature to the damn thing), and for having shiny objects hanging from my rear-view mirror. I have arrived at the conclusion that I was profiled. They are now stopping middle-aged Mom-types wearing librarian glasses who drive Subaru Outbacks. We are a dangerous societal sub-group, you know. I expect he was disappointed when there was no herbal smell drifting out my opened window when he approached. Particularly since I was wearing a tie-dye sundress. This is what happens when you live in a low-crime area, people. Innocent citizens are harassed and forced to take down their rear-view mirror bling. He must have suspected it was a roach clip.
  

Happy Cat

This is Loki. Yes, he lives up to his name. As you can see, he has his own personal, sun-bathed throne room. Loki's self-satisfied face is an indication of having eaten a thousand metaphorical canaries. He lives with Cory and Bob. I want them to adopt me.

Reid, Destructor of Chairs

In regard to the previous post, my son is doing me an enormous favor by unintentionally destroying other pieces of furniture I do not wish to haul along to Colorado. I have made it clear to him that I'd prefer to have a few extra bucks from the sale of these unwanted items rather than have them turned into garbage. He has suggested that sometimes the resulting detritus may have artistic applications. I fear a sculpture of some sort might materialize out in the yard. I don't wish to stunt his creative endeavors. But I am trying to sell the house.

Too Much Stuff

Lovely and gently used and comfy as this furniture is, I am not moving it 600 miles west. I'll let it go really cheap. Come on over for an experimental sit. Until it sells, I have the best appointed garage on the block. Is it beer time yet?

Season Six, Episode Eight

At last. I am a total, blubbering wreck over the double gay wedding featuring brides Brittany and Santana and grooms Blaine and Kurt. Talk amongst yourselves. Moi is verklempt in the very best way.

That Settles It!

It's a Bling Thing

After Tuesday's experience haunting pawn shops in search of vintage jewelry, I am hooked. This is all Jill's fault. She found a beautiful two-tone ring set with a carnelian stone. I bought this very lovely vintage Black Hills silver ring. With the exception of a few pieces handed down to me from my mother, I have never worn pre-owned jewelry before. I like that my ring used to belong to someone else and has an unknown history attached to it. And that it's an older style that likely isn't made anymore. Since I already have this tendency to over-accessorize, I might as well do it more stylishly.

Too Many Spoons. Or Not Enough Spoons?

I am experiencing a shittier than average pain day. Relief is on its way via a hefty dose of Alaskan Amber Ale. I have been overdoing on a daily basis since returning from my road trip and I knew there would be a price to pay. But the house is listed once more and a day or two of less toil is in order. Be thankful that I have avoided any and all public contact today and you have not had to deal with me. My son, on the other hand, has had to deal with me. I am grateful that he is such a tolerant, generous human. I do hope I had something to do with him turning out this way. I'm taking credit for it anyway. That might be the beer talking.

Potato Chip PacMan

Today I found this PacMan shaped beauty in an otherwise ordinary bag of Lay's Potato Chips. On my screen, the chip appears very close to actual size. Which is approximately three inches in diameter. Depending on what sort of device you are viewing this on, your results will vary. Is there really anything more to say? I know, this would be of much greater interest, and possibly even prophetic, if an image of Jesus or Elvis was visible. But this is all I've got. A PacMan potato chip. My life is now complete.

I Support a Kirk/Spock Ticket

I Like Bernie

Boom, Boom, Thwack, Boom, Boom, Thwack!

Stormy Weather

Last evening I went downtown for an outdoor musical event. A really terrific regional band, Main Avenue Warehouse, was playing. I was pretty excited about this. Mother Nature felt otherwise and sent a freaky thunderstorm through town. High winds, sheets of rain, and tornado warnings were involved. So for about an hour we were all more or less trapped at Wooden Legs waiting for the storm to blow through. Which isn't all bad. A nice, safe, block constructed building complete with a friendly atmosphere, locally brewed beer, and in house prepared pizza and sandwiches is an ideal location for riding out a storm. For the last two winters Wooden Legs has been my regular Tuesday night hangout for trivia. Familiar, friendly faces among the staff and patrons lent a festive atmosphere while I enjoyed a pint of Deadwood Golden Ale. Then there was this one weird thing. A seriously weird thing. You know how you can sense when someone is looking at you? I was seated at the bar and was watching the storm progress on the big screen when I experienced that tingly tickle working its way up my spine. I turned my attention to the large windows at the opposite end of the room and out of the corner of my eye saw my ex-husband's doppelganger. I thought it was him for a moment. Same facial hair, baseball cap, tall, similar build. The only thing that was missing was the glasses he now wears full time. It was freaky. I wondered if he has an ex who looks just like me. It was a Fellini-esque moment. A few minutes later the rain was just a memory and the sun came out. When I departed with my birthday growler (thanks, Karen!) filled with Deadwood Gold, the doppelganger had vanished from his seat near the window. Like he had arrived and departed with the storm. If you're going to find yourself in the middle of a film-reminiscent moment, I always say Fellini is preferable to Hitchcock or Cronenberg. 

Meeting Miss Lisa

On day five of my road trip, I was delighted to stop in Dayton, Ohio and meet Lisa! We have read each other's blogs for six years or so after she found mine due to a common interest in the music of Susan Tedeschi. And what a lovely surprise when she presented me with a gift! This beautiful plate is a favorite design of hers and is growing on me. And doesn't it look right at home here! Thanks, Lisa! 

Hitchhiking Moth

While loading the car for my departure from Cory and Bob's, I spied this moth clinging to the side of my car. And yes, I'm pretty sure it's a moth from the fuzzy, feathery nature of the antennae. I know, generally moths are nocturnal but this guy seemed pretty groggy. Perhaps even mildly annoyed after being driven out of the shade into the bright sunlight. At any rate, he only hitchhiked for several yards. Didn't even make it out of the neighborhood.

Gentlemen, Synchronize Your Clocks!

I have just noticed a glaring error in this post. The first time I took the silly test, I got twelve days. When I decided to blog about it, I had to take the test a second time in order to get the image to post. And there is a different answer! Meaning that, if you put any stock into these ridiculous things, which I sort of do but not really, my man shall arrive on September 22. A Tuesday. Well. We'll just see about that.

Your Great to the 1000th Grandma Rode a Dinosaur to School and Other Myths