Garlic and Labor

Dairy Freeze Art

Heading off to Hoosick Falls for a quick visit with my Helen and famiglia. She tells me there’s a garlic fest going on in Bennington this weekend. Mmmmmmmmm garlic.

The Brown's, including Juda the Mellow, and me

gratuitous Skitter pic

I hear tell this is some sort of big, symbolic, happiness-expiration-date three day weekend. The last hurrah before summer’s end, kids return to school, business’ back to way too overwhelmingly busy levels, traffic becomes 900 kinds of unadulterated hell once again and, worst of all, tragically, the Dairy Freeze will soon shut for the season.

So, happy Labor Day! I think it’s just swell that the U.S. honors all the women who’ve gone through the agony of childbirth with this day. What? A different kind of labor, you say?

Oh.

Happy Labor Day anyway.

See you Monday!
Working Class Hero -- John Lennon

Comic Mission

My brain’s shooting on exactly negative 12 cylinders today. I think it’s a combo of unexpected but totally welcome time off and sinus bullshit that would bring down the Silver Surfer. The boss is taking a surprise, much deserved, vaca so this means I’m, more or less, off too. YEA!

I believe the best thing for me to do today is hit the comic book store. Of course and DUH. I’ve not yet been to the one here in Quincy. What’s up with that -- I’ve lived here for 11 years now. Well, I’m in Boston and Cambridge so much that I just end up hitting my usual haunts -- Million Year Picnic, an awesomely stocked, claustrophobic fit inducing sort of joint, in Harvard Square and the molto friendly Comicopia in Kenmore Square.

One of my comic store missions is to find some cool new female super heros. Growing up, I was ALL about Wonder Woman. She was MOST awesome. Super Girl was pretty pallid in comparison -- blonde too. Like any kid, I wanted super heroes who looked more like me. Cat Girl was cool but she was still all villainy then.

Also too, only Wonder Woman was allowed to be an adult? The rest had to be girls?

A whole new wave of female super heroes are around now. I wonder how much of this was birthed by Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

From some interview somewhere:

Q: So, why do you write these strong female characters?
Whedon: Because you’re still asking me that question." 

Tell it Joss!

These are some of the heroes that I'm hoping like hell to find today:

Ms. Marvel
Vixen
Manhunter
Colleen Wing and Misty Knight
Cassie Hack
Zatanna Zatara

A few are members of the Justice League but each one is somethin’ tremendous+ all on their own.

And yes, yes, yezzzzz, they’re all utterly babealicious and scantily clad. Of course they are, this is comic book fantasy-land! You never hear anyone kvetching about how buff and studly Batman and Superman are or how clingy their costumes are? Nope, of course not.

And where are the big budget movies? Sure, sure, Wonder Woman had a TV series in the ‘70s and, cheesy as it was, I loved it. Why not more? NOW!

At Newsarama, Alan Kistler makes some grand suggestions. Go read, go read!

From his keyboard to the Money Folks’wallets.

Oh please, oh please, oh please!

Donna in Wonderland

The other night I had a dream that Jen, Oni, The Amazing Bob and I were all moving to Los Angeles. No clue as to why. I’ve never, ever even been to LA. Plus, why in Kali’s name would we leave Valhalla?!

Clearly I'd taken a bad step through the looking glass.

Jen and I flew out there to look for an apartment. We snatched a cab at LAX. As usual, when I’m in a new city, I’m gaping and gawking -- I’m rubbernecking like the country mouse off the farm for the very first time.

This LA of my dream was vast, sprawling, bigger than Berlin or London. The architecture was all 1960s /70s vintage and not in a good way, set on these steep, rolling hills.

The colors and angles were jarring and garish -- Vegas meets La Paz, Bolivia.

Nothing at all looked familiar. Of course not -- I’d never been there before. I’m not used to feeling so at sea, so lost. Plus, I kept puzzling, a bit frantically, over why we were moving there.

Turns out my pals Tim and Michael had just moved down from San Francisco to open a big cooperative studio. There was puppet making, costume creation, sculpting, painting and  theatrical performances. Pretty damned cool.

I started feeling somewhat less freaked about the big move.

Fast forward to last night’s dream. I was back home in Massachusetts, going out for a last hurrah with pals before the westward transfer. Yes, this confusing and slightly scary
phantasm came back with a second chapter.

My friends and I all met at The Pru so that we could head up to Top of the Hub for farewell drinks. Long time, very tall friend Tom was there, as was his ex-girlfriend Claire -- a gorgeous, warm and equally statuesque pal 'o' mine too. I was feeling intimidated -- way shorter than my 5'4". More like 5"4". Tom and Claire were bantering in their usual fun, charming yet slightly acidic manner when, somehow, the mood shifted. Now they were arguing.

Between their harsh words and altitudinous presence I had to dash off toward the elevators saying ‘Hey, time to head upstairs,’ hoping to break the tension.

Throughout this second episode I kept thinking and asking ‘Am I really moving to LA? WHY am I moving there? No, seriously and WTF...LA?’

There was a crowd waiting to go up, up, UP when the single lift arrived. It was bright and shiny and the size of a tiny closet. I just stood there staring at it in horror, YES horror, knowing that I’d rather climb the 50 flights to the restaurant than get on that sucker.

Then, thankfully, I woke. And I’m not relocating. Well, possibly to the beach once the rain clears off but that’s it!

The Amazing Joe Rich

I went in to the Apple store at the South Shore Plaza today. I brought my crapped out keyboard -- the one I JUST bought in May.

Way lucky me, the tremendous and ASL conversant Joe Rich was on the job.

Now, I'm not exactly fluent with the old ASL BUT it sure as fuck helps when whoever I'm talking with knows at least a wee bit. I rely on a combo of lipreading and sign. Yeah, it's a kluged together language styling but that's how I get by.

'Whatever works' as the ALDA folk say.

My keyboard, clearly suffering from Gremlin Ebola Disease, was a week-ish past the warranty's expiration date BUT Joe Rich, customer service rep extraordinaire, got me all squared away -- a new one at no charge.

Awesome plus but even MORE fab since I had a design job that I needed to submit finals on this afternoon.

Oh yeah and did I mention -- it's MOLTO fab when your customer service reps actually know your language!

Keyboard Crapout

Once again my computer's keyboard has fallen victim to the slings and arrows of outrageous, assholian gremlins (possibly we have an infestation and need to call Gremlin Busters...or something).

Ya know, and fer Saint Isidore's sake, I just replaced the last one in May! Of course, I don't have the receipt any longer. (DOH!) I'm  off to The Apple store with their awesome ASL conversant customer service reps. OK, I'm headed there as soon as they open.

Mega sigh.

At left -- cottages outside P-town in winter.

And I Worry

I know, I know I shouldn’t worry so goddamned much about Rocco, our porch warrior king but...BUT this seems to be my nature.

The Neurotic King, Rocco

He continues in his attempts to counteract/redact his oh-so very brief lovey dovey, smoovey performance by batting my hand away when I’ve the balls on temerity to get within a foot of him. Mind you, he comes up to me as though he’s going to rub up against my legs -- you know, in the time honored feline tradition of ‘you’re about to feed me so I’ll make this small show of appreciation as payment.’ Apart from that one day, he now stops short.

with apologies to Willie the Shake:

To trust, or not to trust, that is the question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Patting
Or to take Paws against a Sea of affection,

Still, he’s not dashing away the  second I open the front door so that’s something. He even hangs around and lets me snap his pic now. Progress.

'True progress quietly and persistently moves along without notice.' 
-- St. Francis of Assisi

Poor Gus

 Rocco’s been terribly grumpy with his porchmates too though. Yesterday he took a swing at Poor Gus, who wisely remembered a prior engagement that he just had to dash off to.

Gaston, who has had enough of Rocco's moods

Gaston was back to walking on eggshells -- tiptoeing past Old Man Rocco to get to his brekkie -- until this morning. Dunno what the old man said but Gaston let loose with one of his Get-The-Fuck-Outta-My-Face howls. Rocco didn’t retaliate. Nope. Instead, he seemed to say ‘OK man, let’s not go all horror show here. Have some of my kibble. No, really. It’s on me.’

Then Poor Gus showed up. Possibly Gaston was fresh out of yowls or too busy being fierce with Rocco to get up in his grille. For once.

Rocco is Old Bull Lee, Crazy Horse and Kwai Chang Caine. He’s an honest, peaceable cat who’s had enough and isn’t gonna take it anymore.

And I worry. I just want him to be happy, warm and secure.

Monica Wing Stained Glass

Years past, Monica Wing and I belonged to the same clay cooperative studio. We both moved on. While I still dabble in the dirt occasionally, I’m mostly painting. Monica has become a molto awesome stained glass artist.

She agreed to be interviewed about her processes, inspirations and kvetches with this truly apt statement:

I think artists are more like football players then anything else. Like when football players are interviewed after even the most dramatic game, and they never actually have anything to say and just sort of mutter a few stock phrases.

Yup, I feel just the exactly the same. Monica is a far more eloquent, interesting and amusing interviewee than I’d ever be.
1) When I met you, clay was your medium. Do you work in clay at all anymore? When you did, what did you most enjoy creating (images as well as objects) and why?

I don't do clay anymore, I don't have the work ethic for even one medium, much less two. I enjoyed throwing pots more than decorating them, but don't know why. I was also in a rut, doing the same thing over and over. I'm sure you're familiar with this -- ceramic people seem to get it the worst. How many times have you looked at the work of a semi-famous ceramic artist and thought ‘It's lovely, but looks really no different from what that same person was doing 20 years ago?’ At the same time, I'm thinking there were people like Edward Gorey, whose work I like a lot, even though his style never really changed or developed much. So I guess it's not so much a question of being in a rut, but whether or not you're happy to be there.

2) You’re working in glass now, doing stained glass. How did you move from clay to glass and why?

By chance, I rented a studio space allegedly to draw pen & ink and they were giving stained glass classes in the next room. My space was too cold to sit still and draw in, and the glass was bright and shiny. That was really about it.

3) What appeals to you about working in glass versus clay? Do you ever miss clay?

I don't miss clay,  because I didn't know where I was going with it anyway, at the time I quit. Glass is just beautiful to begin with, the main problem with it is trying to design something that actually adds attractiveness. If your raw material is already beautiful, and making anything with it is super labor intensive, you always have to wonder if you're really adding anything worth all that labor time, or would be better off just sticking the uncut glass sheets up against a window. 

4) Did you study art formally? Did you have a favorite or most path-changing teacher or mentor?

I majored in studio art at NYU. I did take a week-long glass painting course from a teacher in New Hampshire called Richard Millard, who was really good.

5) Where do you find inspiration? When does it hit you?

For me, stained glass is a medium that is so limited by scale, by my own technical limitations, by the subject matter that I actually want to draw, that I don't have to get as far as inspired -- just ‘well, that will use up the weird blue glass I bought too much of and will probably come out at least ok’ is generally as far as I have to get.

6) Is there a glass community like there is for clay?

Sort of -- there are lots of stained glass classes given at town adult ed programs and elsewhere, and some of those persist long enough to have a community around them. I'm in one now.
But there is no perceptible market for 2' by 2' panels depicting flying mice or giant insects in stained glass, and not much market for medium-sized art panels even if you leave out the bugs and rodents. So, you don't get the same kind of community as with Feet of Clay or Mudflat, where there are a lot of amateurs and/or semi-professionals who have significant sales.

7) Have you ever done blown glass or have any interest in that?

Only once, it turns out I'm afraid of fire.

8) Which stained glass artists really trip your trigger and why?

Judith Schaechter, the most technically brilliant stained glass artist I've ever seen or heard of. She is doing stuff with flash glass, pinpoint sandblasting and plating, that is like no-one else. I love this stuff even though I'm mostly put off by a lot of the subject matter.

9) What sort of art do you most enjoy looking at (genres, mediums, periods)?

I love medieval/early modern illustration, especially marginal illustrations in books, such as those posted by Discarding Images.

10) What size/dimensions do you work in?

Panels from bout 1' by 1' to about 2' by 2'

11) If you could work big, would you? Why/why not? How big would be ideal?

Yes, though scale is a huge problem for stained glass. It doesn't scale downwards, below a certain size the glass pieces become difficult to handle, and the painting technique I have available is too crude for tiny detail. But larger panels become heavy, awkward to display, riskier, and even less sellable. So I find that I'm sort of trapped in a middle range.

Painted stained glass panels are very labor-intensive, and despite lightboxes, you can't really see what they're going to look like until they are assembled, when it is too late. For me that is a disadvantage as it makes me excessively risk-averse. It's one thing to throw a soup tureen that comes out heinous and waste X amount of clay, time and electric charge. But if you spend all your free time for months on a stained glass panel, and it comes out heinous, it is way worse, and creates a great fear of screwing up. Fear is the enemy of progress.

Interested in purchasing or showing Monica's work? You may contact her at mrlwing at gmail dot com

Famiglia

Juliana and TAB

The Goils and The Amazing Bob

Big BBQ doins yesterday.

TAB, Bethanie and The Green Miles

Wookie, AKA Juda

Helen, John, kiddles (Madison and Julianna) and their Wookie, Juda, were down from Hoosick Falls. The Green Miles and Bethanie were up from New Bedford. The most awesome Grill Master Oni Chef worked his magic, Jen made a wondrous salad and then there was CAKE!

This morning we head up to Gloucester and Rockport.

I suppose I oughta warn them that we're on our way.

Nah. Surprise is always best. At least according to Monty Python.

*Nobody* expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise, surprise and fear, fear and surprise. Our *two* weapons are fear and surprise, and ruthless efficiency. Our *three* weapons are fear and surprise and ruthless efficiency and an almost fanatical dedication to the pope. Our *four*... No... Amongst our weapons... Amongst our weaponry are such elements as fear, sur- I'll come in again.

The Spanish Inquisition

I Did It!

pre-MRI selfies. I don't think I quite have a talent for this

Got through the cringingly, anticipated MRI-athon that is.

I’d been dreading yesterday’s back to back (thoracic and lumbar) MRIs for a month -- ever since The Amazing Bob had to reschedule them for me due to the health insurance cock up.

In rescheduling, he was able to get one right after the other, figuring this would be way more convenient for me. It sure would be -- one trip into town versus two, one round of rockin’ the backless hospital gowns instead of two, one needle in the arm, now two, one week blown to hell by anxiety (will I make? Can I really stay in the tube this time?), just seven, not 14 days of zen and the art of chill the fuck out meditation.

Here’s the thing though -- my anxiety levels for just one hour in the tube are at DEFCON 1. How could I possibly manage two?

Like this. I was molto eager to get these suckers done and finished AND this seemed like a good challenge for me. You know, I got through the last 2 MRIs swimmingly so why not up the anti. I AM the MRI queen after all. Hell, I used to do upwards of 16 of these suckers each year and yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah.

My big swinging bravado got me to ixnay TAB and Jen’s kind offers to call to reschedule. ‘I just want this done!’ Accompanied by a way childish foot stamp. God DAYUM, I'm mature!

Then every muscle in my body clenched. Hard. Rebellion.

I launched into my own internal spiel:

Imagine laying on your back, arms wide on Nantasket beach -- you’re at water’s edge. The gentle waves are licking your fingertips, ambling up to caress your skin, sluicing under that space between your ass and the top of the lumbar vertebrae. Slowly -- time, at least temporarily, has no meaning -- the cool sea water creeps higher, calming and comforting.

Booster Shot

I’d be OK for a bit. Then a big league cranky mode would hit me, wrestle me to the ground, whilst I barked like George Carlin on an epic foul mouthed rant.

Phase two of chill-the-fuck-out-Donna was deployed:

breathe deep, slowly, regularly. Be conscious of your breath. Feel your heart rate slow. Release the tension from each muscle group, one by one. Do you feel the presence of tautness? Let it go, starting at your toes (Yes, your toes). Cast loose the rigidity, the strain that’s binding each muscle. Savor the new free, relaxed state of your quads, biceps, abdomen and butt. Revel in it.

So, the BIG day arroved. I’d done my meds (Lorazapam) as prescribed by the most wonderful Doctor McKenna, took the T into town, stopped at Clink for a booster shot and into the future I went.

The techs got me set up, suggested it might be wise to take one last pill before they started (it’d kick in as the effects of the first faded) and into the torpedo tube I rolled.

And it was totally fine! After the initial chill out chats and meditation crap, I settled down to imagining how I’d build giant gryphons and dragons from found materials. You see, here in Valhalla we TOTALLY need giant mythical beasts guarding our houses.

You just never know when a no good, nasty, asshole-ish vibe is gonna slip past the perimeter. And shit.

Peaceable Friday

“You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us. And the world will live as one.”

“If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace.”
-- John Lennon
 
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
-- Martin Luther King, Jr.

“An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”
-- Ghandi

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”
-- Virginia Woolf

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace”
-- Jimi Hendrix

“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.”
-- Albert Einstein 

 “My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far today, I have finished 2 bags of M&M's and a chocolate cake. I feel better already.”
-- Dave Barry

“How come we play war and not peace?"
"Too few role models.”
-- Bill Watterson 

“Peace and justice are two sides of the same coin.”
-- Dwight D. Eisenhower

“Peace is not an absence of war, it is a virtue, a state of mind, a disposition for benevolence, confidence, justice.”
-- Baruch Spinoza

"I don't know whether war is an interlude during peace, or peace an interlude during war."
-- Georges Clemenceau

“There is always a certain peace in being what one is, in being that completely.”
-- Ugo Betti 

Peaceable Kingdom -- Patti Smith

Machine of a Dream

Yes, yes, yez, I know you’ve heard me rant and drone on about the incredible, monstrous dullness of most cars on the road now.

YES, there’s little on the road now besides chunky boxes -- all looking more like John Candy stuffed into a too small Armani suit than a Porsche Carrera 911 on steroids.

And, didja know, Porsche actually MAKES an SUV!

This from a 2010 NY Times write up about the new, sleeker, lighter HYBRID even Cayenne model:

This Cayenne’s styling changes are subtle, but they work. The car looks more like a tall, focused European sport wagon than a hodgepodge melding of a family hauler and a 911 sports car.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The 2013 looks the same. It’s not in any way less fat-man-in-an-ill-fitting-suit-esque. Even the glamor shots can’t make this baby hot.

And then there are the four door sedans. I defy you to show me any real, stylistic difference between the Nissan Maxima, Honda Accord or a Ford Fusion. They all look the same!

You know, more than the shape, the size, the snooze inducing lines, all the cars on the road come in the same very limited palette. Black, shades of grey, dark navy blue, BEIGE (gag!), tampon white and, when the auto industry’s being really, ever-so-daring red. Sure, sure, it’s not terribly unusual, though certainly infrequent, to see a relatively brighter cobalt-ish blue. Even more rare -- sunflower yellow!

The VW new bug had some good colors -- daisy yellow, metallic sage green, a pale a creamy sky blue and I once even saw a bright orange (!!!) -- but I don’t see these on the road much. Usually it’s the grey/silver or the ultra reserved, yet warm, cream color.

nice ass

Colors available for the 2014 line?

Deep Black Metallic Pearl (sounds way better than it looks. of course)
Denim Blue
Moonrock Silver Metallic
Candy (???) White
Reef Blue Metallic (it’s navy blue)
Black
Yellow Rush (like the band?)
Tornado Red (sounds more like a bar brawler from Southie)
Toffee Brown Metallic
Reflex Silver Metallic
Platinum Grey Metallic

Two versions of black, three of grey, two of white, two blue. one brown and, of course, red. This is how unimaginative the car creation gurus are -- red = sexy, imaginative, creative. This naturally means that red = canned, mass marketed excitement. I hate what they’ve done to one of my fav colors!

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Sadly, no blizzard blue, inchworm green, neon carrot, persimmon, plum or purple heart.

With the Smart Car, not only can you change all or individual panel color, you can also choose design wraps!

For straight colors you can get Tangy Tangerine, Don’t Look So Blue...Blue, The Gold Standard, It’s Always Sunny (yellow), Deep Sea Submarine Blue and, in the showroom, I swear I saw lavender as an option.

Bix

Falling Eve

In stock patterns, there’s Kite Flight (a scribbled tangle of bright colored lines -- like yarn fallen out of the basket), Kelly (a small, all over, tight diamond pattern), Skinny (a snake skin look), Zero (arcs of overlapping color), Continental Drift (a rich sea blue with a geologic-ish map appearing in a deeper blue)! Of course, you can totally go individualistically wild too. I could get Falling Eve wrapped around Bix.

Yes, this costs $$$, bucks I don’t have to spare right now but it’s awesome to know I’ve the option.

One more, smaller yet cool and even affordable option is that I can change the Tridion color. It’s now black on a metallic light blue body. For $199ish I could turn the black into Tangy Tangerine.

Christmas prezzie -- I’m thinking Christmas.

Why are there such few choices? Is it the manufacturers or the customers? That is, is there no demand or insufficient demand for interesting colors so the makers don’t make ‘em?

Yeah, I expect that’s the case.

All I can say is ‘what the fuck’s up with that?’ We are all way more interesting than beige, white and grey. We’re all more creative, oh yes we are, than having just one choice of ‘creative’ color (red).

Let your freak flags fly! Grab your expression and go. Drive an orange and rose polka dotted SUV. Be seen in a purple and cranberry pinstriped sedan. Fly down the ‘pike in your canary yellow with cerulean blue trimmed station wagon!

Oh yeah, all that costs serious cheddar.

What a vicious circle we’re in -- manufacturers won’t make fun colored, sleeker, more interesting cars because too few buyers are willing to stand out and proud from the herd. So, the cool options aren’t there for the rest of us AND the timid sorts never get buoyed from being surrounded by the free-spirited self expression set.

Bloody sad, I tell ya! And, I want a job as car color namer. The VW names all sound like the marketeers had a martini or three before their creative session began.
Queen -- I'm In Love With My Car

Love Snippets and Escapism

At our wedding, so many years past, The Amazing Bob read this snippet from  Gregory Corso’s poem Marriage (full poem plus more at this link) :

But I should get married I should be good 

How nice it'd be to come home to her 

and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen 

aproned young and lovely wanting by baby 

and so happy about me she burns the roast beef 

and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair 

saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf! 

God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married! 

So much to do! like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night 

and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books 

Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower 

like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence 

like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest 

grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
 
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him 

When are you going to stop people killing whales! 

And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle 

Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust--

So, you can see why I’m madly in love with the man? Of course you can!
_____________________________
Woody Allen has long been out of favor, ever since his affair (then marriage and kids) with Mia Farrow’s young daughter came out. For me -- eh, it’s been more about his movies. As the alien in  Stardust Memories said ‘We like your movies - especially the early, funny ones.’ OK, not completely true -- Crimes and Misdemeanors was incredible. I remember it as wrenching though and haven’t seen it since it came out in ’89. The last Woody Allen movie I saw was Bullets Over Broadway in ’94.
Maybe it’s time to revisit his work?

From a brief Esquire interview:

What people who don't write don't understand is that they think you make up the line consciously — but you don't. It proceeds from your unconscious. So it's the same surprise to you when it emerges as it is to the audience when the comic says it. I don't think of the joke and then say it. I say it and then realize what I've said. And I laugh at it, because I'm hearing it for the first time myself.

Maybe the director’s work that I should really jump into for my fit of escapism is Wim Wenders. Maybe just Wings of Desire.

The sky over Wenders' war-scarred Berlin is full of gentle, trenchcoated angels who listen to the tortured thoughts of mortals and try to comfort them. One, Damiel (Bruno Ganz), wishes to become mortal after falling in love with a beautiful trapeze artist, Marion (Solveig Dommartin). Peter Falk, as himself, assists in the transformation by explaining the simple joys of a human experience, such as the sublime combination of coffee and cigarettes.

Maybe I should plug my copy of The Red Balloon into the player and get lost in the lyricism for a bit, huh? Or how about Fellini’s 8 1/2 or Ginger and Fred or La Dolce Vita?

“People talk about escapism as if it's a bad thing... Once you've escaped, once you come back, the world is not the same as when you left it. You come back to it with skills, weapons, knowledge you didn't have before. Then you are better equipped to deal with your current reality.”
-Neil Gaiman

Stress Monster

I talk a good stress release, chill out game to the cats, family and friends.

You know, the whole:

‘breathe deep, slowly, regularly. Be conscious of your breath. Feel your heart rate slow. Release the tension from each muscle group, one by one. Do you feel the presence of tautness? Let it go, starting at your toes (Yes, your toes). Cast loose the rigidity, the strain that’s binding each muscle. Savor the new free, relaxed state of your quads, biceps, abdomen and butt. Revel in it.'

Then there’s my visualization shtick:

‘Imagine laying on your back, arms wide on Nantasket beach -- you’re at water’s edge. The gentle waves are licking your fingertips, ambling up to caress your skin, sluicing under that space between your ass and the top of the lumbar vertebrae. Slowly -- time, at least temporarily, has no meaning -- the cool sea water creeps higher, calming and comforting.’

So, uh huh, I can talk it but can I walk it? Sometimes. Often. Sorta. I never seem to be able to administer my own verbal valium until after I’ve become the Stress Monster from Beyond the Pale.

What’s inspiring me to Gastonian levels of nervous strain (without the industrial caterwauling. mostly)? Eh, my new superpower seems to be coughing. ¿Que? I cough my way into  THE most intense, immobilizing headaches. What’s up with that, you ask?

I think I need different asthma meds (my last health plan didn't cover the good stuff) but also this -- the meningioma laying about on the front, right hand side (I think it’s the right) of my brain has been increasing in size over the last few years. I know this. I also know that tumor embiggening is a headache inspirer. This is one of the It’s-Time-For-Surgery alerts.

Will I have surgery this autumn? Only my neurologists know for sure. I see Doctor’s Plotkin and McKenna in September -- delayed from this month due to that nasty, thankfully brief bout of health insurance loss.

Meantime, on Friday I have back to back MRIs for my lower back -- mega joy, joy. We don’t suspect anything untoward's going on down there but gotta have a look see since I’m such a fertile tumor farm.

So, it’s time to break out the elephant tranq methods. Visualize, breath and let go. Repeat as needed.

Whine, snivel.

Scions of the Hadron Collider

Helen and family were just down to visit for a few days. This was their first visit since becoming Upstate New Yorkers.

Seeing one another is no longer a huge undertaking, requiring plane tickets, going to second base with the NSA (they could at least buy me a drink first, ya know) and packing my wee rucksack tighter/with greater complexity and precision than a Chinese puzzle box. Nope, now we’re just three and a half hours by car away from each other.
Monster cool is what this is!

On this visit Helen’s husband John was doing work on our house. Long talked of and put off (by The Amazing Bob and I) projects were tackled. -- shelving was built into the bathroom eves and along the basement steps (built in shelves -- the key to living in a small home. That and becoming a member of Pack Rats Anonymous), our front screen door was replaced, stairs off the veranda were constructed, screens were created for windows long without and more. All this and Helen fixed our oven which had gone all psychotically wonky on us! Having talented construction, carpenter, fixer types in the family is 20,000 kinds of awesome. At least.

My two youngest grandnieces (GRAND!!! What THE fuck?!), were here too of course. Madison and Juliana, are smart, beautiful, cheerful, loving and full of energy. Did I mention the energy thing? Overheated molecules bounce around less than my adorable grandnieces. The Large Hadron Collider looks sluggish next to the girls.

What’s this mean? Lots of post visit naps. Mega lots.

The girls had a beach day, an afternoon of school clothes shopping and movies with Grandpa (this is what they call TAB. I suppose this means that I’ll end up being called Grandma. sigh).

They brought their big, ancient wookie of a dog, Juda, with them. I was more than a bit nervous about how our princess Coco would react to Juda and vice versa. Would he decide that she’d make a tasty mid-afternoon snack? Would she eviscerate him while he slept? As it turns out -- neither.

Coco was def freaked at first. After the first night, when she had to sleep on my stomach ALL night, ensuring that I got no sleep at all, she understood that Juda was well past cat harassing prime.

OK, except that he preferred eating her food to his own. Not surprising. After all, our blue jay visitors rave about it. The raccoons, skunks and possums all swear by it. Possibly the Fancy Feast folk are putting Smack in the mix.