Sunday, June 24, 2007

Those Bastards!


Saw the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash at the Zoo Bar on Monday night. Miz K's the one who turned me on to them a couple of years ago (that's her with the lead singer,). Dang! they were good, even better than last time we saw them. They didn't play "Viva Las Vegas," but they more than made up for it later. We had a great time meeting the band after the show.


This is Vance (and Elvis). Vance is very cool. Vance is very sweet. Vance lives in Austin.

Did I mention we had a really great time?

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Washington Post: Teen tests Internet's lewd track record

Stories like this infuriate me. This is a strong, talented, focused young athlete.

She also happens to be attractive. This is not the most important thing about her.

But someone snaps a photo of her in action and suddenly she has to fend off every perv in the blogosphere. And, even worse, it obscures what she *should* be getting noticed and celebrated for.

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Another pot combination I really like; the photo doesn't do it justice.

The pots look great, but the garden beds seem a little wilty under the hot weather of late. I'm impatient for everything to fill in and grow tall and look as I can envision it will when mature. I suspect I won't be here to see it through.

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I've painstakingly gone through past posts and deleted some references. Trying to keep private life and work life very, very separate. Let me know if you see anything else I should delete/edit in that vein ... ask me privately if you don't know wtf I'm talking about ...

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Currently reading: "Mexican Days: Journeys into the Heart of Mexico" by Tony Cohan

Currently listening: The Best of Chuck Brown

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Lazy afternoon.


After a great (for me, anyway ... sorry, Korb! and glad you came, Krista!) bike ride (35 miles!) this morning, been spending the afternoon at Jones' Coffee, my new favorite coffee place. The owner is lovely and enthusiastic, the paint scheme and big windows make it cheery, and the coffee is fair trade. It's at 11th and G, next to DaVinci's ... go check it out for yourself!

(I'm a coffeehouse whore, I guess; I have no plans to give up my relationships with The Cup, Meadowlark or The Mill. Pretty strange for someone who claims not to drink coffee. Iced coffee is my gateway drug, I suspect ... I'll be freeloading espresso in no time!)

Mostly, this afternoon, I've been uploading more of my photos to Flickr. Finally bought a pro account so I can use it to organize all my photos and clear out my hard drive. Check it out often, as I plan to keep adding sets -- several years' worth to organize! -- whenever I have time.

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I've also just finished the Barbara Kingsolver book. Anyone who wants to borrow it, just let me know; I'm happy to push it on anyone who might be interested. The power of stats/facts about how much energy/waste it takes to produce all the processed food we consume, combined with an amiable, personal account of trying to jump offa that train.

Hers is a mammoth undertaking: Her family spent a year eating only food they'd grown/raised themselves or bought from local, organic farmers. Fascinatingly unattainable as that goal is, she isn't all preachy about it. Instead, she offers up a multitude of information and encourages the reader to attempt any viable changes. Start small, make the change a habit, don't get discouraged, keep expanding.

I've made some small but positive health/environmental changes in the past few months:

* Buying only organic milk -- free of bovine growth hormone, antibiotics, pesticides. (Kingsolver, btw, mentions a local pediatrician who is telling his patients to drink only BGH-free milk; since it's become the norm, he's seen a sudden and drastic increase in cases of early puberty.)

* Buying all my lettuce from Shadowbrook Farms at the Farmers Market, and buying as much other produce as possible from local/organic growers at the Market instead of the grocery store.

* Bringing my own mug to The Mill, etc., for iced coffee, etc. (no more styrofoam!)

* Using agave nectar to sweeten said iced coffee, instead of carcinogens/nutrasweet

* Biking (or walking) to/from work at least once a week.

One change I'm attempting but so far extremely annoyed with: Discontinuing the birth control pills. (It's been years since I had a "real" period. I want to get better about not putting extraneous chemicals in my body, but geez! I'd forgotten how annoying/uncomfortable this particular natural bodily function is.)

One change I really *want* to make but haven't taken the leap yet: Getting the Diet Coke monkey off my back.

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Speaking of Shadowbrook Farms: They're opening a restaurant later this summer! Bummer that it's way out at 56th and Pine Lake, but it sounds organic/healthy/original, and of course it's locally produced. I can't wait to try it!

www.shadowbrooksalad.com


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In less substantial news:

I am seriously thinking of chopping off my hair. I need a change; I think it looks dated. The only thing holding me back is the fact that I wouldn't be able to put my hair up ... but lately, I can't seem to put it up in any type of attractive manner.

On the other hand, I vainly/superficially worry about the Samson effect -- that chopping it off will eliminate all of my personality/attractiveness.

Entonces, I am taking a poll: What the hell should I do with my hair? Status quo, or a change -- and if so, what? All serious suggestions welcome!

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Where the hell have I been?

I know, I know ... I have some catching up to do.

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I particularly like this combination ... lobelia, petunia and a chartreuse sweet potato vine.


And daylilies are starting. I don't remember the name of this one. JoEllen and I drove out to Sam Hill Gardens near Malcolm last fall for some sale daylilies.

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Stopped into LFSUB 'cuz the ladeez were holding a book for me. "Oh, I think she was saving this for you, too," Kirsten said, bringing this out from under the counter:


A bit moldy, but free ... Miz C knows me so well ...

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New study details sex habits, drug use

"The median number of lifetime female sexual partners for men was seven; the median number of male partners for women was four."

Umm ... let's just say I'm significantly above average.

Above-average is good, right??

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Study: First-borns are smarter


I sent this article to the little brother.

He wrote back: "That sounds like questionable journalism to me. Did anybody bother to verify the source?"

Told him that if he was too stupid to figure it out, maybe his eldest daughter could explain it to him.

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House OKs Lifting Contraception Aid Ban


Still has to go through the Senate ... and certain to face a veto. Where do your senators stand? Ask 'em!

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Another beer bites the dust


I'm, like, a decade late here ... but in looking up Blue Moon's new HoneyMoon seasonale, I discovered that Blue Moon is actually owned by Coors. You know -- the same Coors that has not only fought gay rights and union work in its own plants, but has given both financial and vocal support over the years to fighting gay rights, women's rights, civil rights ...

Here's just the tip of the iceberg
.

I've drunk my last Blue Moon. Darn; it was good stuff. But now it would just leave a bad taste in my mouth.

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Miss Nealy, it was so good to see you ... I can't believe I have no photographic documentation of your visit! The boy seems wonderful ... and did anyone happen to mention that we have a job opening?? ;-)

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Finally, the previous posting was completely superfluous and solely for the purpose of earning this:

Online Dating

Cuz I don't wanna be no PG blog! Don't bring your kids to this one!

This blog is not (yet) rated

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Rhymes with Becki.


Today was the anniversary of the government crackdown that led to last summer's massive protests in Oaxaca. May it not happen again this year.

I dream of going back.

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Trudy Rubin is another of my living heroes. This column is the most astute I've read yet on the current troop surge v. insurgency in Iraq.

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Somehow the conversation at work this afternoon latched onto my desire to have a beer named after me -- a la Sweaty Betty.

"Huh," Aimee said. "Nothing really rhymes with Becki, does it?"

(Duh ... this is why I have no song named after me, either ... and yet Cinnamon gets two? Unfair!)

Blechy Becki was the first suggestion. Simultaneously unappetizing and unflattering.

Necky Becki ... with a particularly long neck. Possibly hits a bit closer to home.

My favorite: Flecky Becki. It would definitely have glitter involved somehow.

Note to Miz K: Must get Mark on this ASAP.

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Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Wish I were there.


Mexico City hosts largest ever Frida Kahlo exhibit

Mexico. Frida. Sigh.

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Events closer to home:

Nebraskans for Peace is celebrating the 62nd birthday of Aung San Suu Kyi at 6 p.m. Sunday at First United Methodist Church, 50th Street and St. Paul Avenue.

From the flyer: "The program will include “State of Fear”, a video examining the Karen people along the Thai/Burmese border as well as pro-democracy members in Rangoon. It also details the conditions of Aung San Suu Kyi’s house arrest and the persecution of her family and supporters."

Suu Kyi is a living hero. I'd love to see the movie -- it's not on Netflicks. I thought it coincided with a Peace Corps event I really want to go to ... but now I see that the Peace Corps thing is Saturday, not Sunday. Which means it coincides with RC Dub at the Zoo. Decisions, decisions ... maybe I can swing all of it?

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Milking it for all it's worth:


A few weeks ago I committed to buying only organic milk. It's no small thing for me -- it's twice the price of "regular" milk, and I drink a LOT of milk. But it's a relatively easy way to live my politics. And I don't want the BGH and antibiotics, either.

Check out the Bovine Bill of Rights at cowsunite.org. Cheesy (no pun intended), but inspiring.

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In other dairy news:

Beware the driver of your neighborhood ice-cream truck!

Monday, June 11, 2007

I'm hot, and cheap.

Not nearly as titillating as it sounds* ... just came home to a thermostat that says 82 degrees, but I'm reluctant to turn on the AC ...

(*Believe me -- a sweaty and poor Becki is not a sexy Becki!)

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In other prurient news:

Based solely on his mug shot and his badass writing, I've developed a ginormous crush on Bob Nelson over at the World Herald. Enough so that I've actually emailed a former coworker, now at the Weird, to see if he's straight/single. Good lord. Nothing but embarrassment can come from this.

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(edited/removed)

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Badass Bitches Dept.:



There's a Lincoln-area woman in this very feminist calendar -- not cheesy cheesecake pinups, but hardworking, talented, knowledgeable women working on engines.

Could've used one earlier today, because ...

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Glass Half Full Dept.:

Hopped in the car this morning to find the engine wouldn't even turn over -- not even a cranky whine. The annoyance of calling roadside assistance and the dealership, then the wait, then the shuttle to/from work ...

Just needed a new ignition switch. All covered by warranty. And got a much-needed car wash and vacuuming to boot. Bonus!

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Sunday, June 10, 2007

Clematis -- the name's always sounded a little dirty to me.


This clematis (I suspect it's Jackmanii, even though it's so early), along with some Japanese honeysuckle and a rambling rose, are finally starting to fill in the chain link fence to give some privacy from the neighboring driveway/thoroughfare. They're an adorable family, but the driveway is their toybox/junk pile/day care center.

Neighbors across the street spent a good half-hour today hosing off the driveway for the second day in the road. The kind of waste that irritates me.

I, meanwhile, pulled weeds by hand and felt more than a little self-righteous in knowing that no chemicals have purposely touched this property -- including the unreasonably lush, green back lawn -- in the nearly two years I've owned it.

And mowed down our little pot of cilantro. It looks like it's bolting already -- tall, spindly, ferny leaves instead of nice fat leaves. Anyone know what gives?

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What else I did today:

Finally got my bike's odometer working correctly.

For those of you keeping track: My house to Eagle and back is 31.3 miles.

I love Sunday mornings. MoPac is my church. The rest of the day feels so much more peaceful when it starts with a ride.

Now we need to find a Thursday to do the taco run!

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Gift idea:

Miz K needs a baby gift for her new nephew. May I suggest this lullabicious collection?

Fuh-reaky!

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Saturday, June 9, 2007

Organic? Maybe not.

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USDA may relax standards for organic foods
Los Angeles Times, June 9

So now, thanks to the USDA (and our own Mike Johanns), we'll have no idea whether food labeled "organic" is actually free of pesticides, antibiotics, food colorings and other fun extras.

"Under the agency's proposal, as much as 5% of a food product could be made with these ingredients and still get the 'USDA organic' seal," the LA Times writes.

A quote from the article:

"This proposal is blatant catering to powerful industry players who want the benefits of labeling their products 'USDA organic' without doing the work to source organic materials," said Ronnie Cummins, executive director of the Organic Consumers Assn. of Finland, Minn., a nonprofit group that boasts 850,000 members.

My advice: Don't buy "organic" from Wally World expecting to get anything other than Monsanto products with targeted packaging. Buy, instead, from your local co-op. Ask questions -- is the lettuce local? What do they know about this brand? A local, small store, with a manager who actually orders the products you see on the shelves, is going to be able to tell you where it comes from and what, exactly, that "organic" label means. And is far more likely to make sure "organic" means what its customers want it to mean.

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In food news closer to home, Arturo's has suddenly closed -- as in, not only did they not let their longtime customers know, they didn't give their employees or landlord any advance notice, either.

True, the food was neither really Mexican nor really good. But it was comfort food (i.e., cheese), and it was a Lincoln institution. I've been eating tachas since I came to college more than 20 (egads) years ago. Krista and I used to eat there regularly enough that we had our own waitress. Stephanie worked two jobs and is singla mama to two kids. I worry about her getting the rug pulled out from under her so suddenly.

When I was still new to Lincoln and my now ex-husband was wooing me, we went to the Taco Hut every Wednesday. He was such a regular that they put his dinner on the grill as soon as they saw him come in the door. Dickie had a new joke for us every week, and Art would come over and schmooze with us. It felt like community; it's one of those things that has made Lincoln feel like home to me.

I hate that the city basically killed Art's way back when they cleared Block 35. Despite several incarnations, they never completely bounced back. I'm sad they're gone -- but I'm also angry about how they've gone.

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I have a week's vacation Aug. 19. I'm thinking of doing this -- a volunteer vacation to help restore habitat on Mount Hood in Oregon. A cheap vacation -- airfare and food -- the chance to be outdoors with other cool people and do something good in this world.

And I'm canoeing the Dismal the weekend before that. Don't worry -- the friends I'm going with do know what they're doing.

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Wednesday, June 6, 2007

I'm a badass.

Cyclone-force winds are shaking the windows and rattling the blinds, so much so I can barely hear the stereo 5 feet away. "Gusts to 50 mph" -- surely this constant gale counts as more than a "gust."

And yet, staring down brute nature, I am an Amazon. Rode home in the face of it (walked to work this morning, as I'd left the bike downtown after Jazz in June) and was only fazed a couple of times. Did briefly think it was going to get blown right out from under me on 11th Street.

But I don't plan to tempt fate again tomorrow.

I'm committed to riding to work at least once a week; so far this week, I've commuted solely under my own power (save hitching a ride home with Miz K last night). It's a bit addictive, actually. I start thinking things like, if I pack my clothes then I can still wear skirts to work. If I walk one day a week, it's a day I don't have to work out. ...

Hope this ill wind doesn't blow all the fat new buds off the clematis vine.

Now to start Barbara Kingsolver's new book, "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life" -- I'm writing a review.

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Anyone wanna lay bets on how long it'll take Dubya to pardon his buddy Scooter? Anyone? There's a free T-shirt in it for you ...

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PS: MizNealy, thanks for the call and I'll hit you back tomorrow! Crazybusy day at work today ...

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Cool shit on the Web.


1. Green chairs -- I love it!

The treehugger.com site is always full of great new ideas ...

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2. More immediately useable: Type in your zip code, and weatherunderground.com offers a sky map of the constellations you should be able to see that night.

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Friday, June 1, 2007

Insanity, defined.

Or: Why do I continue to hold onto any shred of optimism?

Put my profile back online a couple of weeks ago. I have not had good luck with Internet dating in the past, so why do this to myself? Again?

I first tried the online thing a few months after I got back from NH. Right off the bat I met this Buddhist computer geek from Omaha. We dated for a couple months, until I realized I really didn't like him; he just wasn't a nice person. Angriest Buddhist I've ever met.

Then I went on a long series of first dates; in no instance was a second date warranted.

This time around, I've had a couple of dates with the only guy so far who seems even remotely interesting. In writing, he's a real catch -- a constant reader, into hip local music and art, extremely well-written but obviously not a nerd. He seems like a great guy in person, too, so it's disappointing to meet and realize just ain't no spark gonna fly. Sometimes I wish I'd never felt such sparks, as now I maybe wouldn't be so insistent on finding them again; but then, I'd still feel trapped in a life I didn't really want to be living.

Related quote of the day:
"She's an optimist with no reason for optimism." -- Ladette Randolph, "This is Not the Tropics"

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Somewhere this week I stumbled upon the concept that gardening with native plants is antihumanist. A perfunctory Google search turned up this piece by Michael Pollan, a writer I adore, rather pettily responding to a rather petty notion that by planting in straight rows rather than curving arcs, the local gardener is behaving "irresponsibly."

By that argument, wouldn't anything we plant, in any pattern, be dishonest? Even to tilling up the soil in the first place? To say nothing of the past 200 years of organized agriculture.

Yet Pollan is shallow in waving off any idea of "natural" gardening as hysteria (and basically calling the results ugly, to boot).

The reasons for using native plants are obvious: Those best-suited to the habitat will require the least care. Especially here on the hot, humid Plains, anything that grows with little water is a far more responsible choice than a bed of impatiens. And the local ecosystem depends on particular species of plants.

Then there's the desire to preserve, however impossible in practice, some semblance of the past. Save for one preserved expanse somewhere in Kansas, and supposedly Nine-Mile Prairie north of town here, there's no original tallgrass prairie left on the Plains. Why not try to coax those hardiest and most amenable prairie plants back into our daily visionscape?

I've planted have a selection of native grasses into the nonlinear but certainly not "natural" bed in my backyard. On other hand, I'm certainly not above tossing a few exotic-looking cannas into the mix, nor a few water-hogging hanging baskets for the front porch.

The article's some 13 years old now, so perhaps the original argument and Pollan's kneejerk response to it have both been tempered somewhat.

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Stopped by the brother's house this afternoon. I commented on the Band-Aid that 5-year-old Chip was sporting on his forearm. "Yeah," he sighed, pointing out various other points of previous exit, "I'm losing all my blood." So matter-of-fact about it. Hemorrhage, shmemorrhage. Reminds me of the time his father threw a temper tantrum in the doctor's office, getting shots for kindergarten, wailing, "They're taking all my Indian blood!" This just after our grandpa had told us we have Cherokee ancestry. Supposedly.

And Ryan's finally toddling about, and thus begins the hair-raising, air-sucking period of watching him negotiate sharp corners and stairs. He's also kissing -- wet, open-lipped bestowments, and he won't settle for it if you offer his cheek, no; he's a full-on-mouth-kiss kinda guy.

Rest of the weekend's been good. Impromptu dinner party last night; a hard 25 miles with William this morning (most of it into the wind); a couple hours' worth of weeding (but Miz K insists it's her turn to mow, and who am I to disappoint her?), a couple of new books to read ("Myself With Others," essays by Carlos Fuentes; "Speak, Memory," memoir by Nabokov, both via Bluestem.). Learning to relax into my weekends instead of turning them into a 48-hour task checklist; the floors may be crunchy underfoot, but I'm a lot calmer and happier.