Picture perfect morning.

I was one badass bitch on the bike this morning; must've been equinox energy. Drove to the trailhead 'cause I thought I had only 20 miles in me ... but at Eagle I was feeling so good I just kept going and did 30 after all.

I've never ridden with my iPod before. I know it's dangerous, but damn! it was fun. I usually prefer the quiet crunch of my wheels on crushed limestone, the breeze and birdsong as soundtrack, but this morning I was singing to the wilderness at the top of my lungs. On shuffle, no less (though I skipped anything that wasn't hard and fast).

Windy on the way back -- gusts to 30 mph! -- but I sliced through it like butter. Great ride. Though I missed an overseas call that I might've heard if not for the iPod, and that was a bummer.

The trail is lovely, summer's greens turning to fall's orange-yellow-browns. Wisht I'd brought my camera.

This afternoon I added some pansies and mums to the front steps. We'll see if they take.


Currently reading:

"The Middle of Everywhere: The World's Refugees Come to Our Town" by Mary Pipher

Recommended by the lovely volunteer coordinator at the People's Health Center, a low-income clinic that serves Lincoln's many refugee populations. Lincoln is one of the top 10 refugee sites in the United States. Bosnians, Vietnamese, Iraqis, Sudanese, Kurds all have substantial burgeoning populations here. Pipher gives detailed insight into the multiple ways newcomers are overwhelmed by their new home. Never mind being dropped into a dingy apartment in a strange city where you can't understand the language. Imagine all that plus not knowing such social norms as daily bathing, what a toothbrush is, not knowing even how to turn on a light or a faucet. Just for starters.

Unfortunately, I don't think that volunteer position is going to work out. I need to find work where I'll have actual contact with people, instead of just filing paperwork. Trying to get the Nebraska AIDS Project to return my calls ... but this book has me wondering about what Pipher calls "cultural brokers" ... who help individual families learn to acclimate to their new society. I wonder if that'd qualify for my Peace Corps work?

Impatient? Me?

Suddenly the morning glories have taken to flowering after all. They're supposed to be solid summer bloomers, but whatever; take what you can get when you can get it, I always say. Nothing prettier than a blue flower.


Sensory overload

With all the money I don't have in my bank account, I went on a bit of a music binge this week. To wit:

"Breathing Under Water," Anoushka Shankar with Karsh Kale (daughter of Ravi, half-sis of Norah Jones, haunting Indian melodies/instruments with a distinct fusion flavor)

"Kala," M.I.A. (Sri Lankan female hiphop ... I'd meant to get this when it came out a couple years ago, but listening to her new disc just made me want this one even more ... a bit rougher around the edges)

"Betty Davis," Betty Davis ('70s funk that's like Macy Gray meets jazz meets disco ... thanks to Miz K for turning me on to her, but HOW could I never have heard of her before???)

"This is Trip-Bop," Fez Dispenser (globally ethereal trip-hop, thanks again to Miz K, but PLEASE stop introducing me to new music!! I can't afford it! "Rock on, girl!")

"Another Fine Day," Golden Smog (former side project of Jeff Tweedy and one of the Jayhawks)

"Please Panic," The Vulgar Boatmen (think I found them via NPR's "All Songs Considered" ... mid-'90s postgrunge, almost Wilco-y poplike, at least to my ear ...)

"The Very Best of The Last Poets," (so you thought the Sugar Hill Gang invented rap? Then you need to hear this spoken-word-over-bass-beat from the late '60s / early '70s. Afros and all. The revolution comes!")

"Mezzanine," Massive Attack (more older, layered, ethereal trip-hop ... what can I say? It's the mood I'm in lately...)

In my defense, most of these were used discs, so I'm just saving them from the landfill, right? Still, if my ears were my stomach, they'd be all bloaty right now ... must learn to pace myself ...


I "love" this "blog"!

The Associated Press had a story today on this blog devoted to "unnecessary" quotation "marks."

Which links to other bloggers obsessed with: misuse of the word "literally"; people who leave passive-aggressive notes; and signs in all caps except for the letter "L."

Sadly, the link to a blog about my own pet peeve, misused apostrophes, doesn't work.

Who knew so many could be so obsessed about such minutiae?

Copy editors of the world, untie!


And now, the news

Too lazy/chickenshit to blog politics, so I'll just link. If you haven't heard this shit already, then you're not paying enough attention ...

Student charged with wearing fake bomb (aka a T-SHIRT) to airport

No bail for Jena Six teen

Judge denies Planned Parenthood's request to open clinic



That number again is ...

As of this moment, I have 69 friends on MySpace ... heehee ...


The tables have turned

So it's 10 p.m., I'm nearly through my third High Life and waiting for my parents to come home. How's that for a 180? They're staying with me this weekend for my dad's 40th dental school reunion. I'm resisting the urge to shriek "And just WHERE have you BEEN?" when they come home ... meanwhile, after they leave, I'm going to have to fumigate to rid the place of my dad's aftershave and that just plain old-people smell. How sad ... my folks are old!

What's the story?

Morning glory vines go crazy everywhere I plant them ... horribly invasive. Yet they practically never flower. Here's one, of a handful. Such a pretty purpley-blue, they're almost worth the trouble.

I've heard it's possible to develop allergies, and I'm afraid that's what I've gone and done. Suddenly this fall, working in the yard brings on such an eye-tearing, nose-tickling, multiple-sneeze-inducing, head-heavying sensation that I can hardly stand it.


A bout of babysitting the niece and nephews this weekend. Ryan, at 17 months, is heavily into an "I won't smile, and you can't make me" phase.

Family obligations cut into my weekend, making me feel as if I'd wasted my entire Saturday. Sad that I see it as wasted when I spend time with people who love me, instead of getting minutiae crossed of my "list."

But I did manage to check off two biggies:

1. I sent off the Peace Corps application. Now to tackle phase 2, the preliminary medical questionnaire, and to find appropriate volunteer experience.

2. With my remaining United miles, I booked a trip to Austin in October. Between that trip and Tucson in November, I have much to look forward to in the short term ... spending time in cool places, with very cool friends.

Thoughts for the day:

1.

2.

When women stop carrying
mirrors with them
everyplace they go
maybe then
they can talk to me
about
liberation
-- Bukowski

3.

What is past is prologue.
-- Shakespeare, by way of Miz K

4.

Beer is proof that god loves us & wants us to be happy.
-- Benjamin Franklin

5.

You gotta drop to juggle.
-- Mark, by way of Vance

Now it's on.

Bust the lock off the front door
Once you’re outside, you won’t wanna hide anymore
-- Grandaddy

------------


Bigger adventures to come, I hope (more on that below), but for today, at least, I am exactly where I want to be: On the patio, surveying my domain over a High Life. It's been a much-needed day of solitude -- a 20-mile ride this morning, followed by several productive hours in the garden ... clearing out weeds, clearing up the soul. Quiet, sunny but not hot, dirty fingernails ... perfect.

Here's another late-summer garden shot:

Seems like it looks more impressive in photos than it does in real life. Maybe that's true of many things? Good to remember.

------------

I've just sent off a resume and cover letter to the Cambodia Daily, an English-language daily in Phnom Penh. Have I mentioned this before? I applied on a whim just before I moved to New Hampshire; when they actually offered me the job, T and I discussed moving there together, but in the end I turned down the job and went not quite so far east. Always regretted it. A colleague on my Nigeria trip, it turns out, worked there a decade ago; he had high praise for the paper and said I likely hadn't burned any bridges. We'll see.

As for the Peace Corps application, it's ready to go as soon as I can make contact with my recruiter in Denver; I have some technical questions I need to get answered before I hit Send.

Found a copy-editing position in Abu Dhabi this week ... but I think that may be too repressive an environment for me. Can't really see myself wearing a hijab.

What might rise to the top? I have no idea yet. I'll miss this little life I've created for myself. But I'm ready for another, bigger one.

-------------

Though it's been mostly solitary (by choice), the weekend was punctuated by some charming get-togethers with friends. I finally met my online friend vmh (author of this lovely, poetic blog) in person on Friday afternoon; on Saturday I met Meleeska and mini-Meleeska at Jones Coffee; just got off the phone with my new buddy Vance in Austin, who'll be coming this way this week before leaving on a monthlong tour of Europe. Come see his badass band at the Zoo on Thursday, and I'll buy ya a drink!

------------

Oh, and I'm reviewing Edwidge Danticat's new memoir, "Brother, I'm Dying," which comes out next month. Left until age 12 in Haiti with her pastor uncle while her parents forged a new life in New York, she draws on much of her early life in her amazing first novel "Breath, Eyes, Memory." "Brother" recalls her early life, punctuating it with her father's fatal illness and her uncle's detention, in post-9/11 America, while visiting on a routine visa ... he dies without charges (as there are none to bring) and without the medication he desperately pleads for, in vain. I haven't read far enough yet for details, but that's enough to enrage me, once again, at how far we've come from the values we supposedly hold so dear.

And the second chapter's title a question we all should ask ourselves now, before it's too late: Have You Enjoyed Your Life?

Shake yur "Moneymaker."

-----------


The best part of buying the new Rilo Kiley was discovering that Charlie Burton now works at the Homer's out by Gateway. I'd worried about him when the downtown store closed.

No, wait -- the best part was when Charlie Burton tossed in a free 45 of "Moneymaker." I'll have to drag out my turntable!

"Dreamworld" sounds a bit Garbage-y to me; "Moneymaker" is downright Top 40. I knew going in that it was more polished/poppy than their earlier discs ... but it also feels a bit less passionate. Even so, that Jenny Lewis voice ... it's one of those that's tied, in my mind, to a difficult period, and even though the music is new, I'm still finding her a bit difficult to hear ... when, exactly, does all this mental linkage stop?

The pic, btw, is by Al Schaben, who I believe was a few years behind me at UNL's illustrious J-School. If only I hadn't done so badly in Photojournalism 1 ... maybe I too could be photographer to the celebrity indie stars! ...

------------

Before Monday night's storm, the big backyard bed looked like this:


Now the morning glories are no more ... dragged down by the heavy winds, killing the copper trellis as well and smushing coleus and grasses in the process of falling over. Lucky that's the extent of my damage; Miz C lost a pretty young maple in her front yard. We'll see what the current storm does ... a sonic boom of thunder just now ... power was out for about an hour ... the rain itself is gentle and cool, though ...

In other garden news: No more tomaters: The battered plant has died back. They were purty -- and sweet! -- while they lasted ...


Free-form bouquet of zinnias and shastas from the backyard:


------------

I found Miz Em's story on my computer ... the one she was writing while we were hanging out at the Blue Line in Omaha a few weeks ago. I think you'll agree it's a compelling read:

One scary night a dog named carmel went to a coffee shop to see what is going on in there. So he saw his own brother doing he did not see me because I am small for his age his brother stood up and he went to the boys room. He came in and said hi,to his brother His brother was mad at him so they talked until they had to go home. So his brother telled his mom what happened at the coffee shop when Carmel went to bed. In the morning he tried to beat his brother to the paper and he did. He saw a cat so he chased it. He saw his friend Budderball, Rosebud, and there brother LUCA.Budderball was here for Carmel. Rosebud was here for Alana. LUCA was here for D.C. CARMEL and Budderball were spying on the girls and the boys. Carmel spyed on the Girls. Budderball spyed on the boys. The girls were playing with Alanas dolls. The boys were hearing Gwen Stephani. Then they went to Carmels room to play. Then they all went to the park then Carmel and everyone got into a circle so they told everyone what they did at home. When they went to school they told everyone almost in the entire school

... To be continued?

Meanwhile, she came back from our weekend all jazzed about going vegetarian -- with no prompting from me, I swear. Her folks have their hands full, raising an 8-year-old full of opinions and convictions ...

------------

Just passing this info along, folks ...

Solidarity March And Vigil To Be Held For Injured Lincoln Activist
Alex Svoboda

This Sunday, August 26, 2007, the Nebraska Coalition for Peace and Nebraskans for Peace will be sponsoring a march and vigil in solidarity for Alexandra Svoboda starting at 12:30 PM on the north steps of the Nebraska State Capitol.

Svoboda, formerly of Lincoln, was seriously injured on August 11, 2007 while being arrested by the North Providence, Rhode Island Police Department during a peaceful protest against labor practices of a New York food distributor used by a local restaurant.

She suffered severe injuries, which have required three vascular surgeries thus far to save her left leg. Orthopedic surgery is on hold to repair her knee ligaments.

The march in Lincoln coincides with a similar peaceful rally in North Providence the same day. Family members and local labor activists will speak briefly before the rally heads north on Centennial Mall to the south side of the federal building on “O” Street where a vigil in support of Alex will be held.

“We need to stand up in support of Alexandra and other peaceful activists who are victimized while exercising their first amendment rights,” said Nick Svoboda, brother of Alexandra.

Svoboda’s injury while peacefully protesting highlights the struggle still faced by many citizens in our nation. The Nebraska Coalition for Peace and Nebraskans for Peace urge all communities of activists to join in supporting peaceful demonstrations and actions by citizen activists.

nfpOmaha@NebraskansForPeace.org
www.NebraskansForPeace.org

------------

Just passing this along, as well ...

U.S. Out of Iraq march and rally
11 a.m. Sept. 15
15th and P streets
www.fmclincoln.org/Coalition_for_peace.htm

------------

I have a blog I want y'all to read. An old friend/former coworker is in the military and has been serving in Kandahar. (Actually, she's on her way home right now but expects either to be sent back to Kandahar or to go to Iraq soon.)

psychosomatic sunburn

As you can imagine, she needs to be fairly anonymous/circumspect in any criticism of the government/military. But she makes some astute points about how things are working (or not). And she's a phenomenal photographer and has posted several heartbreaking stories about what she's seen/documented. You'll learn from her -- trust me.

------------
Currently reading: Moloka'i by Alan Brennert

Currently hearing: "You Are Free" by Cat Power (at Meadowlark Coffee, which just proves how very hipster they are 'round her!)

------------

Another chapter by Miss Cellanea.

Photo of the day:


Which doesn't exactly make me want to join the fight for a women's running of the cows, to compete with the running of the bulls at Pamplona.

------------

Hooeee, was this a disturbing movie!

Good soundtrack, though.

-------------

For the second time in a week, some cute boy has complimented and fussed over my badass bicycle. Now that is a benefit I hadn't considered when I bought it.

------------

The other day I spotted my first sweet corn stand of the season.

Then Miz Amy came by that evening with a lovely bowl of tomatoes from her garden ... cherries and "Fourth of July," which are simply perfect, sweet and meaty and just a bit bigger than a golfball.

Then I realized I must have tomatoes of my own ripening out by the fence. SO I went out and there they were. Seems like a week ago it was full of little yellow flowers with a little green ball here and there. Now the green balls are everywhere, several have started to color and a few are full-fledged red. I like to put them on the roof of my mouth, still warm from the sun, and squish them with my tongue. "Supersweet 100s" ... my all time favorite.

------------

Bad News: O Asian Garden has closed -- the whole thing, market, restaurant and all. My fault once again ... I haven't been there in ages, and hadn't even had a chance to try the sushi bar they put in over the winter.

------------

Also my fault: Thanks to my near-constant use, "ginormous" is now recognized by the fine folks at Merriam-Webster Dictionaries. What's next, fantabulous?

------------

Can anyone explain to me how one can accuse someone of rape, and be expected to testify without using the word "rape"? Anyone? Bueller?

----------

My new mantra.

"I dwell in possibility."

-- Emily Dickinson

------------
I particularly like these daylilies.

But bunnies have demolished my hollyhocks. I've coated the entire area with red pepper flakes as a deterrent. Limited success.


------------

Currently reading: "The Shia Revival: How Conflicts within Islam Will Shape the Future," by Vali Nasr ('bout time, huh, William?)

Currently listening: "A-Ma-Zone," Zap Mama

------------

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?

------------

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.

------------


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.

------------

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 ...

------------

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

Currently listening: The Best of Chuck Brown

------------

Where the hell have I been?

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

-----------


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.

------------

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 ...

------------

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??

------------

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.

------------

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!

------------

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.

------------

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?? ;-)

------------

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



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

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.

------------

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 ...

------------

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

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"

------------

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.

------------

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.

"I can't explain the way I feel

/ each time I get behind the wheel."
-- "Speeding," the Go-Go's


If I'd spent my Friday doing all the things I'd meant to do, instead of bopping off to NE Lincoln to take my newly grad-e-a-ted cousin Sarah to lunch, I never would've gotten a speeding ticket. The officer didn't seem impressed by the facts that (a) the road seemed rural (especially driving past a newly decimated North Forty Golf Course -- sad); (2) I was just following the guy in front of me (who also got a ticket).

Sigh. I just took the STOP class last spring. I hate to think what my next insurance bill will be. I think Krista's right -- I need to put a block on my speedometer.

------------

Market day.

Mizzes K and A and I, escorted by "Big" Tom, rode our bikes downtown this morning. I've been negligent -- May's nearly over, and this was my first Farmers Market of the year. Spring mix and sunflower sprouts from Shadowbrook Farms; spicy white radishes from a kid with a talent for salesmanship; tortillas and a nifty new totebag from Emma and Jill's stall; jewelry; giant bubble wands for the niece/nephews.

Detoured over to Urban Trail Gardens, a new nursery at Fourth and F streets. It's small, but they have some good, healthy plants and a great selection of succulents. They live just across Randolph from me, so I want to throw some business their way.

Spent the rest of the day raking out all the old mulch the former owners had spread just before I bought the house. Dyed wood chips marketed as "Husker Red" -- really! Dumped all that detritus behind the lilac bushes; dug some peat moss and nonchemical fertilizer into the clay I call soil; and spread a new, thick layer of natural (Husker-free) cedar.

(The smell of cedar, btw, always reminds me of porn. When I was growing up, my best friend next door had a stepfather who kept his Playboys in a cedar storage closet. Her older brother wasn't allowed to go in there, so he had us nick copies of the magazine for him. Thus cedar always evokes Barbie Benton in my mind ...)

New mulch, garden-dirty fingers and new ring (spiral alert!) from the market:


First peony from the garden:



------------

Music, trivial.

A new friend shared with me this lovely passage from "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter." The first paragraph sounds to my ear strikingly of Hemingway. Makes we want to revisit McCullers.

This music did not take a long time or a short time. It did not have anything to do with time going by at all. She sat with her arms held tight around her legs, biting her salty knee very hard. It might have been five minutes she listened or half the night. The second part was black-colored -- a slow march. Not sad, but like the whole world was dead and black and there was no use thinking back how it was before. One of those horn kind of instruments played a sad and silver tune. Then the music rose up angry and with excitement underneath. And finally the black march again. But maybe the last part of the symphony was the music she loved best - glad and like the greatest people in the world running and springing up in a hard, free way. Wonderful music like this was the worst hurt there could be. The whole world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen.

Far less eloquently, Amy and I were reminiscing the other day about the days of K-Tel albums and Columbia Record Club -- 13 albums for ONE PENNY! I distinctly remember "Bat Out of Hell" was one of my original 13. Amy said she thought Loverboy was one of hers.

"I was totally into Loverboy," I said.
"I still like you," Amy assured me.

Then she blew my mind by telling me Exene had become a grade school teacher/librarian -- when she's not still making kickass punk rock music, which she still is. That's on top of Scott last week blowing my mind by saying she has a kid with Viggo Mortensen. I'm obviously not on top of my Exene trivia. Must go study.

------------

Quotes of the day:

Mom: "What did you do with Grandma?"
Daughter: "I don't know ... she ran away."
-- overheard at the Farmers Market

"We're in the throes of passion!" -- Tom, engaging in massive PDA with Amy, also at the Farmers Market

"Well, go throw your passion someplace else." -- me (pretty good line off the cuff, I think)

------------

Things to do Sunday:

On what would have been her 100th birthday, give a memorial shout-out to Rachel Carson for alerting the world to the dangers of pesticides.

Meet us at 84th and O at 9:30 and let's ride! (Unless it's really raining.)

Fuschiarama.

What I love about fuschias is how they look so exotic, yet (if treated as an annual) require almost no special treatment. Perfect to gaze at as I'm lazing on the porch swing.

And these roses! They've been halfheartedly trying to climb up the drainpipe since I moved in two years ago. Just the other day Miz K remarked on how healthy the plant looked, clambering all over the place, and I said, "Yeah, but it never blooms." Then, a couple days ago, voila! Don't know the variety; just a double climber that looks pretty old-fashioned to me. More buds all over the place, and yesterday I see that the rose in the backyard shade garden's in bloom as well.

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Playing with fire.


I am so not a renaissance festival person; we went to support Miz K's boyfriend, the juggler; and our friend Jeff was pouring the wine.

Quotes:

"Because nothing says Renaissance like Sno-Cones." -- Miz K

"Your boyfriend's prancing." -- Gwyneth to Miz K

"All dead men are cremated equal." -- Calligraphy card for sale

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Day of rest? What day of rest?



Wrote a mini book review for Sunday's Journal Star -- which still sits, still in its annoying plastic wrapper, on my dining room table. Busy weekend -- rode to Eagle and back with Al and his friends Sunday in the a.m., rushed home to shower and rush to Pioneers Park Nature Center for the Divine Miss Em's 8th birthday party, rushed back home to meet Jeff who kindly made new screens for my basement windows; rushed through planting my weekend purchases; rush rush rush ... I need a day off ...

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My new favorite coffee shop.

It's called the The Cup (that's The with an accent acute on the "e" -- as in French for "tea") and it's right in my 'hood -- 25th, between Randolph and H, in the old bottling plant. ORGANIC coffees and teas (a huge selection of teas), amazing pastries, and what looked like some yummy salads and sandwiches.

The owner's lovely as well, offering us samples of the lavender lemonade she was working on. Gossip is she was popped for embezzling awhile back, but she's wonderfully enthusiastic and has created a great space with lots of tasty treats, and I hope she can make a go of it.

It must have wireless 'cuz I saw Bob Hall there -- so pay a visit, y'all! I'm biking to work this morning and so plan to pick up a roasted eggplant sandwich for lunch on the way. And try the ginger lemonade.

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Recycling tip of the day.

Campbell's Nursery at 40th and South has a bin at the back of the parking lot where you can dump empty flats, plastic pots, etc. If you won't reuse them, don't throw them away!

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I'm a plant whore.

Lured, on the way home from work, by the homemade "Plant Sale" sign pointing to Elmwood Avenue. Someone thinning out their own lush backyard garden. Scored some basics -- cannas (I don't think the ones I saved over the winter are coming up), more hostas and daylilies, some ribbon grass to hold in the soil along the alley. I resisted the phlox and the beebalm.

I have no business, cash- or space-wise, buying more plants. I am officially addicted.

Up early tomorrow to help plant the Sunken Gardens ... though I'd rather laze in bed and then futz around in my own backyard.

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This is hardly the definitive article on why the blogosphere is so rife with angry outbursts and outright hatred, just one of many I've been reading lately.

Not that I want to see any limits placed on anyone's right to say whatever they think, but
I think the combination of mass distribution and anonymity is dangerous. The hatred that comes out from under cover of a pseudonym is just part, it seems to me of a growing trend -- the same one that, for instance, lets us feel so insulated in our cars that we can yell the filthiest things at fellow drivers or the galling lone pedestrian who dares to stray into "our" crosswalk.

I don't mean to be a Pollyanna. I think disagreement is not only acceptable in social discourse -- it's downright necessary. But can't it be civilized? Does it have to come down to blanket stereotypical statements about some perceived Other (Republicans vs. Democrats, hunters vs. vegetarians, drivers vs. cyclists, etc.)? Can't it be about what we think rather than who we are?

And the anger! It just surprises me, sometimes, how vitriolic people can be in addressing "virtual" strangers. Where does it come from?

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Has anyone else been seeing crows attacking squirrels lately? I've never seen it before, but we're having Celebrity Death Match in our own yard, day after day. Is it a personal vendetta between a single specimen of each species? I don't think so. I think we're watching Darwinism in action.

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Spiraling up.

Miz A got one of these funky begonias at Campbell's, so of course I had to get one, too. You know me and my spirals.

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Pete Watters called us yesterday to come hear Sarah Benck and the Robbers at The Zoo -- the place was dead and he's afraid she'll stop coming to town if people don't represent. Actually, by the time we got there, the crowd was good. But -- y'all! You have GOT to go see for yourselves how such a big voice and big sound can come out of such a badass, ponytailed little thing.

She's at Knickerbockers on June 8. Make a note of it. Then GO!!!

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"Bunnies", anyone?

I know a certain Juggler who's eager to get a new gaming league together. It's a complicated sport, so read up on the rules of play first.

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Currently reading: "The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden," William Alexander (thanks, Miz A!); "A Shuttle in the Crypt," Wole Soyinka (thanks, Miz C!)

Currently eating: Chipotle black bean hummus from Open Harvest. Oh, man, you gotta try this.

Currently drinking: Mothership Wit. Coriander and citrus in an ORGANIC, mass-produced wheat-beer. My snowboard-instructor cousin is moving from Vail to Fort Collins -- home of New Belgium -- this fall, so maybe I'll visit and get a tour!

Currently mourning: The imminent loss of Homer's downtown. It's all my fault for jumping on the digital bandwagon. The store out by Gateway is staying open ... but it's a matter of time, isn't it? I'll miss picking up something new based on proximity or cover art or Charlie Burton's advice.

Current theme song: "Real Friend," Sarah Benck and the Robbers

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What I did today.

Three and a half flats planted. A bit of transplant surgery here and there. A growing list of more to get at Campbell's tomorrow.

Best day I've had in I don't know when.

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Currently reading:

"Disgrace," J.M. Coetzee (actually, read the whole thing before sleep and in the morning before getting out of bed. Lovely. Heartbreaking)

"Harvest for Hope: A Guide to Mindful Eating," Jane Goodall (I'll have more to say on this soon)

"The Best American Travel Writing 2002" (If I can't afford to go on vacation, I bring the vacation to me)

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Thoughts for the day: Three from Wendell Berry:

"Be joyful though you have considered all the facts."

"Eating is an agricultural act."

"Every day do something that won't compute."

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How will my garden grow?

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Lord, I'm ready to get my hands in some dirt and sunshine again. Stripes of suntan on the back of my neck and the small of my back, from bending over tiny greenlings, whispering: "You can do it! Grow, grow!"

A couple of good sites that satisfy my garden lust, my green envy:

Garden Rant: I like this blog's philosophy of real gardening -- preferring bug-eaten leaves (like last year's morning glories, above) to the "perfection" that comes via declaring "chemical warfare."

High Country Gardens: Santa-Fe based nursery, specializing in xeriscaping -- plants that thrive on little water, even this far north.

Bluebird Nursery: They're mostly wholesale, but they're just an hour and a half north of here and have a great, inexpensive retail nursery specializing in native plants. They also supply plants for the annual Spring Affair fundraiser for the Nebraska Statewide Arboretum -- the best gardening deal going!

One of my favorite writers, May Sarton (read "Plant Dreaming Deep" -- now!), spent her life creating a garden, and refining the metaphorical links between garden and life. In her mid-90s, immobile and nearly blind, she would ask her caretakers to take her out to her garden beds and lay her, prostrate in the dirt, so she could feel it in her fingers, smell it into her skin.

I want to feel mud squishing through my bare toes, sweat dripping into my eye sockets. I want to eat homemade salsa on the patio (my tomatoes! my cilantro!) and admire not my actual scraggly backyard, but my fantasy of how it might look someday.

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I spoil myself.

The rewards I promise myself for completing the Nigeria package:

* Pedicure

* Netflicks subscription (Miz C: "Marie Antoinette" is on its way, just in time for movie night!)

* New glasses (the old ones broke beyond repair, and the old-old ones are disintegrating and make me look geeky, and not in a sexy way)

* More memory/disk space for my Macbook

* New bike: I want this frame in the pretty lime green, but with the specs of this one and larger, thinner wheels ...

Treats out of all proportion to the work involved. Or maybe not.

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Unsolicited advice.

I have a, talented, compassionate, gorgeous, multifacted young friend who I think is feeling overwhelmed lately. She hasn't said a thing; she certainly hasn't asked for advice or an ear to bend, so I haven't offered.

But if she's reading this, and recognizes herself, what I'd like to tell her is this:

To acknowledge a major life change (or maybe several major life changes, all at once) isn't working the way you want is NOT an admission of failure. It's OK to say things aren't working for you, and to make changes. Maybe the most mature thing we could possibly do.

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Currently listening to: New Son Volt

Currently reading: This week's The Nation; "This Is Not the Tropics" by Ladette Randolph

Currently quoting: "The problems we face today cannot be solved by the minds that created them." -- Einstein

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Willing to trade in kind.

The other day, the concept of polyamory came up in a conversation. I'd never even heard of it. Later that afternoon, I was editing a column about that very subject.

My first thought: Who has the time?

My second thought: Who can manage to find even ONE significant other, much less multiples?

Actually, one of the subjects offers a pretty astute quote at the end of the column: "Attention is the currency of relationships."

And I have been broke for far too long.

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The new issue of Garden Design popped into my mailbox yesterday -- an exuberant, orange daisy bursting out of this gray, gloomy February. Full of green-lined Paris pathways and vertical gardens climbing up skyscraper walls and lush, tropical Indonesian foliage.

Went to bed curled up under an extra blanket, ignoring the wet white piling up outside, dreaming instead of a new bleeding heart with golden leaves, rows of agaves on a bed of gravel ... wishing I could make a garden to fit each of my personalities ...

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All that '80s music the other night compels me to create the soundtrack I'd want were I suddenly to have a high-school flashback (which I really hope I don't):

How Soon Is Now / The Smiths
Just Like Heaven / The Cure (actually, this may have been college freshmen year?)
My Shadow in Vain / Gary Numan & Tubeway Army
Add It Up / Violent Femmes
People Who Died / Jim Carroll Band
Celia / the Motels
Mexican Radio / Wall of Voodoo
I Want You Back / Hoodoo Gurus
Skidmarks on My Heart / the Go-Go's
Ramona / the Ramones
The New World / X
What I Like About You / the Romantics (yes, I know, but ... )
Shout / Otis Day and the Knights ("Animal House?" Hellooo?)
A Million Miles Away / Plimsouls
I Want Candy / Bow Wow Wow
Destination Unknown / Missing Persons
Sex (I'm A ...) / Berlin
Can't Stand Losing You / the Police (angsty, much?)
I Melt With You / Modern English (oh, come ON ... it HAS to be here ... )

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