Girl Fight

I know I should say "woman fight" but really, it's not as interesting.
As Middlebrow mentioned, I happened to witness a girl fight in the waning moments of the Sun Volt show on Sunday night.
First, I just want to gush (gush, gush) about how amazing Alejandro was. I can't wait to listen to him all the time.
Well then. Sun Volt was on. I had noticed earlier that a young man was backstage taking pictures of Alejandro when he was on. I assumed it was one of the members of Sun Volt because he had that kind of mussy haired-hip look to him. Turns out he was the bass player. Anyway, we were in the second row, front and center. When the show got going, many people stood and danced in the area just in front of the stage, which meant just in front of the people in the front row. As the show progressed, two girls (yes, girls) came and stood right in front of the people just in front of us. Annoying, but not a buzz kill. One of the girls, the brunette, held a huge jug of what looked like Kool-Aid and vodka. The other girl, a blonde, wore a tiny white sundress. They were, to my mind, trying to get the attention of the mussy haired hip guy.
The woman in front of us asked the girls several times to quiet down, or take it down. Not sure. It was loud. But from her hand gestures, I could tell she was less than thrilled with the presence of the girls in front of her. Instead of quieting down, the girls screamed louder and waved their hands. They were being truly obnoxious. I watched this argument slowly simmering between glances at the stage and some booty shaking.
During the encore, I noticed the girls arguing more. The woman's body language said to me "upset, but controlled." The girls were laughing, clearly enjoying the irritating effect they were having on the woman. Her husband stood beside her, uncomfortable.
I was clapping when I saw the woman's arm shoot out, right into the side of the brunette's face. There was no blood. The brunette clutched her face as if she had just noticed its existence. She looked confused, as if she had blacked out for a moment and then come to in the middle of a situation she didn't understand.
The woman's husband started gathering their things, cooler, folding chairs, blanket. The brunette looked around, as if for a witness. I turned my attention to the stage. I heard the brunette say, "This isn't over." The woman walked off with the two girls, her husband following close behind.
I felt sorry for the husband and the woman. It was the best show of the season, and it was ruined by two underage drinkers. Sure, she shouldn't have hit the girl. But I understand the situation. I've been there. I yelled at some loud talkers at the Chick Corea and Bela Fleck concert. Middlebrow regrets that he didn't deck a guy who talked about real estate through their entire second set.
We've become a society of rude people. Sad. But true.

Pie Update

On Wednesday (yes, the first day of school), I decided, oh, around 8 pm, to make a pie. I made this decision for several reasons: the blackberries were almost over ripe, I was awake anyway, watching "Rivers and Tides" trying to decide if I could use it in the Intro to Creative Nonfiction class, Son had just gone to bed, and we were having dinner the next night with Scorpion's Tail and company. A pie seems like a good thing to bring along.

Here's the pie. It was good, but not amazing. The crust was, overall, good, but tough in a few places. The filling was good, but, in my opinion, should have been sweeter. One friend disagreed. But.








This was my favorite part of the pie, the little lip where some filling was oozing out. I decided I like a pie that's not perfect, that has some imperfection. Otherwise, how would I know it was mine?









I have to say that the idea of "imperfection" has been greatly influenced by Andy Goldsworthy. I was watching, as I said, the documentary, "Rivers and Tides" as I waited for the crust to chill, then for the pie to bake, etc. He said (and I'm paraphrasing) that most art is so tightly controlled as to be airless. He likes to make art that incorporates surprise, chance, chaos. I think this is my theory of pies, and life, as well.
While making the pie I encountered the moment, as I do in most baking endeavors, where I ask myself, Why am I doing this? and simultaneously almost burst into tears. I don't want baking to be just another realm where I feel inadequate, and judged to be falling, well, just a bit short in the perfection category.
As I rolled out the crust, I couldn't help thinking of my many grandmothers, and the numerous pies they must have made in Iowa kitchens and Chicago apartments. They didn't worry about Martha Stewart or what the neighbors thought. Granted, they probably had much more experience, and guidance, in the pie making realm than me. But I don't want dessert preparation to be about doing it "right" and striving for "perfection." I want it to connect me to my grandmothers and to my son. I want it to taste delicious and look just a little bit out of control.

Thinking About This

In response to ideas raised by Sleepy E and Signifying Nothing, I am now pondering how the cool, hip guy (Ira Glass?) becomes The Man, or the dominant paradigm that others work against/ respond to. In reference to Sleepy E, it's when the Hero rises to such power that he becomes the Villain.
Except, I don't want to hate him. I admire him for what he's done, but now I want something new. This also refers to McSweeney's et al: the cool hip publication/radio show publishes up and coming unknown who then become famous. Then the hip cool publication/radio show continues to publish only those now famous people, and we, the listeners/readers get sick of listening to the same five people over and over.
So what do we do? Do we start our own hip publication/radio show?

Also, Paula Poundstone is coming in October. Anyone? Anyone?

Back to What?

I know. We can't fight it. It's coming. At least it's not a Monday. We have that to be thankful for. I have finished my syllabi, I have found two new articles, I have selected a movie. I have received the obligatory before school emails from pre-panicked students, and one from the distant past who wants to come discuss his grade. What? They never cease to amaze me, those wily students.
I still have not made pie this summer, but I may do that tomorrow. I still have to find a recipe.
Oh, back to school. It sends me into a "what did I accomplish this summer?" panic. I didn't finish my novel, but on the plus side, MB and I took Gus on a hike yesterday. We went on a picnic with Son this week. I'm (pretty much) back on the running/swimming schedule. I picked up my dry cleaning. What more can I expect?

I'm Lost, I Said

By way of an apology to Signifying Nothing for incorrectly correcting him about the lyrics to "America," I will post here the (seemingly) correct lyrics for the song by Simon & Garfunkel. I got them off a website and I listened to the song, and they seem correct, so here it goes:

"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together."
"I've got some real estate here in my bag."
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies,
And walked off to look for America.

"Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now."
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw,
I've gone to look for America.

Laughing on the bus,
Playing games with the faces.
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy.
I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera."

"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat."
"We smoked the last one an hour ago."
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine,
And the moon rose over an open field.

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America

And I agree with SN that it's a beautiful (or accurate?) piece of Americana. We are all, in some way, looking for America. Or some of us have found it, our little corner, and we love it. Especially upon return.

Leaving CinCin

Parting Shots:
Met wonderful men, Joe, Amhet, Greg for night two at JeanRo. Had a Stella, a bourdeaux, and the Trout. Delicious.
Made all the more delicious by the fact that they expense accounted it. Then we went to a Martini club for two dirty maritinis.
All free, people, because many working professionals have expense accounts. And like to buy attractive women drinks. That's assuming, of course, that I'm attractive. Which, Joe, father of two, said I was, "naturally attractive."
And, hey,when that comes with free wine, food and drinks, it ain't for nothin.
So over and out, for now.
BTW, I saw "Becoming Jane." It's okay. I love James but am no big fan of Anne. My big problem with the film was the presumption that a man had to inspire her great works, had to teach her to feel passion. Anyway, the film didn't spend the time, as her novels did, developing the relationship. It was a good way to spend the afternoon, air-conditioned.
Am glad to return home in mere hours, as it is well into tomorrow already.

Greetings from CinCin

I'm here! It's BLEEPing hot. And by hot, I don't mean the sun shines and makes me hot. Walking out of the air-conditioned hotel into the Cincinnati air is like walking into a hot blanket that's been soaked in hot water and put in a hot dryer where hot air blows on you.
When I stepped out of the airport last night I immediately tried to think of metaphors for the humidity. "The air clenched the water in fists." No. "The air fisted the water." No. "The air held the water loosely, so that it might drench anyone who dared step from the manufactured environment into the cruel night air." Closer.

Today I went to the Rosenthal Center for Contemporary Art, called the CAC. (Good thing they didn't add another "A".) It was designed by Zaha Hadid, and I came to see the building so I could write about it for the DFL.
My favorite aspect of the building was the curved cement where the wall met the floor. It looks like a place to skateboard.
I was most precoccupied with the stairs. They are low and unnaturally long, which forces one to walk more slowly. Form dictating function, in a way.
Through the window I spied this painting on a building across the street. Clearly done for the benefit of CAC patrons. But the man looks exasperated. Also, like he's melting.
The Reds were playing today. The street next to the stadium is Pete Rose Street or Way or something. It should be Alley, right? Apparently they still love him here.

Let me just tell you my tale of woe: I got in last night and the hotel had no record of my reservation. I must have bad hotel karma. I found myself thinking, for the second time in less than a week, "Anyone can take a reservation, but can you hold a reservation?" It was the fault of Travelocity. So kind Scott at the Cincinnatian found me a room (a parlor, actually, but who am I to complain about the thin fold out bed?) and I called David in Bombay to work out all the kinks. I was on hold for the greater part of an hour. Luckily I found a magazine! If I had to listen to that recording of a couple talking about how to change reservations one more time I was going to gouge my eyes out with some of the sharp artwork in the room! Anyway, I got a refund and made my own, new reservations at the Westin. All hail the Westin. They let me check in this morning AND I have free wireless. Hurrah! And for lunch I hade a Big Salad in the lobby. It was delicious.

Overall, the Hadid building was disappointing. I know it's a museum and as such its main function is to display art. But seriously, the most exciting thing about the building is the facade. And the stairs. The display spaces are cool, but nothing astounding.
So my question is, can public space be feminist? I don't mean can the space or building challenge dominant ideas about public space, because I know they can. But what makes a space, or a building, feminist? Many of Hadid's buildings are curvy, but does this make them femininist? Many architects are using more organic shapes/lines in their buildings. I'd hate to think that curves are strictly feminine. I got a book that I read some of on the plane. It was interesting, in that many of the essays investigate the public/private, masculine/feminine split. And one (which I have not read yet) attempts to get outside that binary.
But in today's political culture are we bound by it, because so much public architecture is masculine and supports (literally and metaphorically) patriarchial institutions? One need only look at the downtown library to see curves and open space. Designed by a man.
I'm left only with questions.
My goal for the afternoon: write, find a shopping center, and see a movie. In that order? Maybe. I have found a place (across the street!) for dinner. JeanRo. Mussells marinare and pomme frite, here I come!!
I will pause now so that you may reflect.

School Dread

I'm back from the jungles of Idaho where we braved storms and too many margaritas to enjoy family time and reminiscing with high school buddies, former teachers, parents' colleagues, and family friends and neighbors.
Highlights:

1. Sitting in hot pool that belonged to hotel nestled in evergreens, as it got dark.
2. Spending lots of time with parents and siblings.
3. Hiking with siblings in Lava Hot Springs.
4. Making the incredibly delicious pomegranate mojitos (not as sweet as you'd fear!).
5. Walking Gus in Lava and meeting the locals.
6. Talking to hip teenage niece about friends from Austin, myspace and emo-screamo.
7. Shopping with sister for shorts and buying two shirts and new dress instead.
8. Buying shorts at Ace Hardware.
9. Swimming laps at Ross Park Pool with my new polarized goggles.
10. Eating at Pocatello taco truck two times.
11. Running into high school friend and jewelry making wife at Pocatello farmer's market.
12. Hiking with grad school friend and dog on Boundary Trail.
13. Riding my bike in Island Park and Inkom.
14. Meeting sister's friend from State College. Mostly when he said things like "Yep, she's your sister" and "Don't you think 'Mike's Hard Berry' sounds dirty?"
15. Talking to cool sociologist who studies vampire culture and prison gambling.
16. Finally reading A Fan's Notes. What took me so long?
17. Eating lots of eggs and bacon for breakfast.
18. Eating lots.
19. Drinking lots.
20. Finally coming home and getting back to running. And sleeping in my own bed.

But, because I'm crazy!, I leave for Cincinnati on Wednesday to do research for what heretofore shall be referred to as the DFL. I'll spend two days at the Arts Center, also eating at whatever cool restaurants I can find, maybe having a martini, if I feel brave.
I hope I see many of you soon. Wish me luck.

Notes from Idaho

First, I think that could be a Hemingway title. Okay. Here's some things I've been thinking of.

Things not to talk about at wedding of high school friend:

1. God: How did this happen? To my credit, I did not bring it up. A friend from high school's husband began talking about how he wanted to take his kids to church. For some reason, I couldn't quite believe it. Maybe because he never struck me as the type. And, maybe it's just me, but I think when your oldest is 15, it may be too late to try to force them to go to church.
2. Pedagogy: I'm not sure how this came up, but I managed to throw it in. My friend, who also has a PhD, said something like "don't get all fancy on us" affecting an Idaho-hick mentality that he surely does not own. Oh sure, everyone else can talk about something where I'm excluded (fishing? world cup soccer? sword fighting?) but when I say a long word I'm accused of being elitist. The world isn't fair.
3. Friend's high school romance life: Who knew that relationships one had twenty years ago (and I use the term "relationship" loosely) should not be mentioned because husband's can get jealous? (I do have to mention, however, that friend threw herself down on the grass to imitate herself some twenty-plus years ago during an REO Speedwagon concert, bawling on the floor because of some guy who, even when mentioned by name, I couldn't remember). This was not the friend who was getting married, but a different friend.
4. Various drunken outings in Salt Lake City: I was telling friends about how bad I was two years ago, so bad that MB still mentions it as my "bad night." It was hilarious, only because they seemed so horrified about my behavior, behavior that, I might add, I no longer feel bad about. (which should be its own post, so rarely does it occur)

In general, my friend's wedding was lovely. Her parents were excellent hosts, the food was great, and I love me a backyard wedding. Another friend said, after the wedding, "well, that was a cute little wedding" and then proceeded to tell me how her own marriage was flailing (this was the friend whose husband gets jealous about high school boyfriends). I, however, felt that the wedding was perfect. I decided I love it when older people get married (and by older I mean my age or older). I love it because the couple is not naive, not starry eyed and are generally so grateful to have found each other. With this in mind, I have to say that my own favorite married couple are HighTouch and The Historian. I have never heard either say even something simply "nice" about the other. They always gush about how wonderful/amazing/superb/incredible the other is. I aspire to be like them. I, too often, say negative things about MB who, I might add, doesn't really even miss me. (sniff, sniff)

So for anything negative I've ever said about MB, I take it back. He's a prince of man, a genius, obviously, and if he can put up with me (the worst kind, high maintenance but I think I'm low maintenance), then he deserves an award. Or at least a week or so of pure batch.

I'm Home, Briefly, Before Returning to Idaho

First things first: PIE!I ate this delicious little rhubarb-berry concoction at the Almo Outpost in Almo, Idaho. First we had burgers, which were good, and then I ate this. It was yummy.
This is Son wearing goggles on the shores of Lake Alturas. He did get in the water, for the record, but he did not need the goggles.
My favorite recent pic of Son. Note the ice blue eyes. This was after he got in the water. The only reason he got in the water was that MB was out there holding a bag of M-n-M's. They were the disgusting white chocolate variety which no one else wanted, but MB was able to lure Son in to the water with the promise of the whole bag for himself, which he quickly consumed. MB accidentally bought them thinking they were the Almond kind. He still hasn't learned to read a label, but maybe someday he will.

We had a great time in Idaho, visiting with friends. My friend, who is married to the climbing ranger at City of Rocks, is a friend from junior high. She got out her yearbooks and reminded me of a prank we pulled on two (nerdy) girls who lockered next to us. We wrote them love notes from a supposed boy who liked them. (mean!) I had blocked this out of course. I remember all wrongs done to me, but have suppressed all the cruel things I did. I guess it's how we move on. But I also read what I had written in her yearbook, something like "we'll be friends long after all this is over" or something, which turns out to be true. Of all my childhood friends, I think she is one I have the most in common with now. She and hubby bought some land in Almo and they are going to build a straw bale house, which I've always wanted to do. I hope she calls me so I can come out and help!

Hailey was awesome. None of the icky grossness of Ketchum and Sun Valley, with all of the beautiful scenery and amazing food. We ate our weight in grilled meat (hamburgers from a ranch that Mark recently acquired as part of his job at the Nature Conservancy. Grass fed!), lamb chops (from local ranch, Lava Lake), and grilled veggies (heirloom potatoes that were sublime!). We also ate a ton of salsa from a local place, and went out for Thai food. Oh, and we drank real beer. I bought a pie at the farmer's market, which was great, but sorry, no photos. It was a mixed berry pie. We also ate wraps from a Ketchum place, Wrap City, which renewed my interest in the wrap as a food category.
The highlight was Lake Alturas, which we will definitely return to in the near future, hopefully to stay for a few days and camp and hang out at the lake to work on our tans and read fiction that's trashy, but only so trashy. It's not the ocean, after all.

Friday ErinAlice flies in with family in tow to begin the two week family festivities. We will go to Inkom, then to Island Park with side trips to Yellowstone. Then back to Inkom, where we will be joined by Sister 2, then Sister 1. We have a night of margaritas, guacamole and whatever else planned. Then to Lava for a few days before the big birthday bash for Sister 2. Then a big retirement party for Dad. Then we return to life as we know it, which is basically a long, screeching downhill slide into SCHOOL. (but I'm going to block that out for now)

I-da-Ho

We're off for some slightly cooler weather in Idaho. We'll be visiting a friend who lives at City of Rocks, then off to the Hailey/SunValley/Ketchum area for a few days to see some grad school friends. We hope to do a lot of hiking, and maybe some activities involving water. I also hope to have a good, old fashioned breakfast involving biscuits, and maybe eat some pie. You know how I love pie.
We'll check in next week. Stay cool!

Melancholiday

I love most holidays, I do, especially ones that primarily focus on food. This is why, in some ways, I prefer Thanksgiving to Christmas. Except for the fact that I usually see my family at Christmas and only sometimes see my Dad at Thanksgiving, but not always. But this year, I didn't see my family for any of the winter holidays. I did see my Mom and ErinAlice at Spring Break. And we went to Idaho to see my Dad for Memorial Day.
In spite of all that, I find myself somewhat melancholy this 4th. I'm not a big lover of the fourth, and I don't love the fireworks (especially this year, as I anticipate a Gus freak out), but I find myself a little sad. Maybe it's because last year we got to spend it with Otterbutt and ThirtyOne Flavors and children. (Son was talking about all the fireworks he did last year with "Camme"). Maybe it's because we weren't invited to any barbecues. Maybe it's because I didn't get it together enough to make either potato salad OR any kind of pie.
But really I think it's because I think of the fourth as a holiday that most people spend with their families. And we spent most of it inside trying to stay cool. I did watch some Wimbledon (a family tradition), and we did make some hamburgers with corn and potatoes (everything cooked on the grill, of course).
Maybe it's because I feel somewhat isolated and like a shut-in. I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself, but we don't really have a "group" of friends that we hang out with all the time and would, naturally, spend the Fourth with. We do have friends, but they are all from different groups (cliques?), not really forming a coherent whole. We don't really have people over (except sometimes we do). We don't really go out for drinks with certain people or go to bars (much) or etc, etc, etc.
I guess our social isolation is partly an effect of being a parent (babysitter? What babysitter? Ours is in France). And it's partly an effect of being writers who are trying to write this summer. We haven't been on the phone inviting people over. But partly, I think, it's an effect of the environment where we live. Lots of people here have lived here for a long time and have lots of friends that they have had forever. OR they spend holidays with their families.
I felt this way when I lived in Seattle too. But there, perhaps because I was single and very social, I made friends with other people who had recently moved to Seattle. Once, at a party, I made friends with a whole group of people from Ohio because they were in the kitchen talking and I thought they said "Idaho." I sat on the lap of one of these people, a man named Wheat (not kidding!), in a van on the way home. But that's a story for another post.
I also made friends with a woman who was a customer of mine at Starbucks because she went to College of Idaho. And she was good friends with the only person I knew who went there.
Maybe I just need to start an "I'm from Idaho or a state that sounds like Idaho" club. Or a "we used to have friends but then we had a kid" club. Or "My family's not here, want to have a barbecue?" club. Or "I like to drink pre-made margaritas" club.
I could go on like this for hours.

It's All About Food

It's all about food, and it's not just about the grill, though it is about that too.
Today, because it was supposed to be 100, I took Son to see a movie, "Ratatouille." We recently saw "Happy Feet" which I liked, but I have to say I was a little annoyed about the constant pop culture references, disco/Prince songs sung by penguins. It was cute, but maybe a little too cute.
But I loved "Ratatouille." It may be my favorite kid movie. It had all the trappings of cute kid movies, with extra jokes for the parents, but it seemed just a little smarter,and just a little, I don't know, better. Of course it had a bad guy, and a father, and a happy ending. But it was actually good.
And as far as the grill is concerned. I'll let pictures speak a thousand words.

MB: The Grill Master

The First Grilled Meal: Tuna!
Tonight's Meal: Chicken Kabobs and grilled corn

As MB said, the grill opens up a whole new food group that we used to be excluded from: grilled foods. As in, grilled corn, kabobs, grilled mushrooms which are the best things ever, and grilled vegetables, also the best things ever.

What I'm Doing Or Gus's Epic Journey

Just to get it out of the way: I'm not writing. The word whore has not been whoring. She has been shoe shopping and music swapping (thanks High Touch!), and she has been making rhubarb crisp, and she has been running with the dog.
To wit: This morning I made plans to trail run with a friend to Dog Lake. How can you go to Dog Lake and not take the dog? You can't. So I loaded up the dog in the small car and off we went.
Once on the trail, we encountered some other trail runners. We ended up running in front of and behind them most of the way to Dog Lake. Just before Dog Lake I called Gus back to me, gave him a treat and held his collar so he wouldn't get too far away. When we got to Dog Lake, he jumped in like a good dog and ran around a bit. Then the runners passed by the lake and I saw him chase after them. I walked in that general direction and after a few minutes I began to call him. No luck.
I ended up going about another mile in the direction of the runners calling Gus and whistling. I encountered some hikers who had come from Big Cottonwood and they had seen Gus "leading the pack" of runners. Eventually I realized I couldn't catch up with the runners and turned around. My friend and I agreed to go back down to the parking lot and wait for the runners. She thought maybe they were running a loop which would be 10-12 miles.
We waited in the parking lot for about ten minutes when a mountain biker came dashing down the trail. She rode directly up to us and asked "Did you lose a dog?" She had taken the dog from a group of hikers who had taken him from the runners who, it turns out, were not doing a loop but were running over to the next canyon, probably at least a 15 mile run. Her friend had Gus on a leash and was riding him down to the next parking lot. After I got in the car, I let myself cry a little, but just a little.
We met up with Gus at the parking lot. We had probably been separated for about 2 hours. He was glad to see us and seemed to just want to get into the car, though I made him drink some water first.
He's been sacked out on the dog bed since we got home. I think he'll be tired for at least two days.
So today my plan is to eat chips, drink water and iced tea, maybe some wine later, grill some salmon and not leave the house. It's too damn hot out! And I'm still a bit shaky from the adrenaline of running around looking for Gus and not finding him.
But then I did find him, so it's a happy ending. Thanks to lots of nice people who like dogs. The biking woman even said if she hadn't found us, she would have taken him. So the world is full of good people who love dogs.
Let's hear it for nice people who just want to reunite dogs and their owners.
In other news: I made the Lone Star iced tea and it's delicious.

If it swims, grill it!

When I worked at a summer camp the year after I finished college, I became good friends with the lifeguard. She and I would take nightly trips into the closest grocery store for ice cream and double dipped chocolate peanuts.
Once, we wandered back to the seafood department where we found and stole a sign that proclaimed, "If It Swims, Grill It!" She kept this sign inside the pool shed. I like to think it was a warning to wayward campers.
It seems appropriate this week, as MB and I have finally become the proud owners of our first grill. It was no easy process, acquiring this grill. We had to go to no less than three stores. We waited at the second for them to tell us that they didn't actually have the grill we wanted in stock. Off to store three, where we obtained the grill in no time flat.
Then the real fun began. I should have taken pictures of what I like to call "Assembly for Humanities Majors." Every instance of confusion was seized upon by MB as both an example for him to share with his classes AND as the epitome of bad technical writing. For us, what the box proclaimed was a grill that "assembles in minutes!" became a one hour plus extravaganza of trying to figure out the difference between a 20 1/4 X something screw and some other screw that looked exactly like it only was thicker and shorter. Whatever. Luckily we had plenty of beer and hard lemonade on hand to assist us.
To christen our grill, we had tuna.
Tonight we had friends who moved away (to Nebraska) and who are back for a short visit over. I took the opportunity to make something new. Lamb burgers with apricot salsa using a recipe from Bon Appetit. I've never made anything from that magazine before, because it usually looks too complicated or has tons of cream or cheese. But I highly recommend this. I made the salsa using apricots from our beloved Farmer's Market. I ate one this morning. It was delicious. The salsa also had red onion, roasted red peppers, pistachios and mint. It was a hit!
Our friends brought over their son who is Son's age. They also have twins who are about 17 months. They are incredibly adorable and surprisingly low maintainence. They just kind of hung out and walked around. Even Gus was good. Big fun all around.
I might post pictures of MB manning the grill eventually. But we expect to eat a good portion of our meals outdoor and straight from the grill.
*As a side note, while looking for a grill we found a stylish outdoor bar complete with bar stools and umbrella. That's going on the wish list.

It's Too Damn Hot Update

First, there have been questions about what, exactly, happened to Gus. We took him to a dog park and he got bit by a dog. It was partly our fault, as we let him play rough, etc. But the other dog got him good: punctured his ear. He seems to be okay, though we are constantly worried that it is infected. We did take him back to the dog park and he played with a nice dog, Baxter.
Currently he is sleeping on his doggy bed in front of the air con.
Oh yes, have I mentioned that it's too damn hot? I know, it's not yet July. Summer just offically started. How can I already be complaining? It's because complaining is an art form I have perfected.
Last night I had to restort to fruity drinks. But I was too hot to make my own delicious fruity drinks (which also might have required a drive to the liquor store in the too hot car), so I bought the bottled kind of fruity drinks that one can purchase in grocery stores here. Yes. A new low. But not quite as low, I might point out, as the time last summer that I purchased Bartles and James margaritas. Did they taste like margaritas? No they did not. Were they fruity? Yes they were.
Last night was spent on the couch with said fruity drinks watching "The Office" marathon which was just a sad excuse to promote "Evan Almighty" (which I will go see, btw). And then I had to watch "Studio 60" imploding on itself. I love this show. I adore it. But even I am beginning to hate it. Gone is the snappy, witty dialogue. Gone the romantic comedy element that we love so well. Gone the brief views of the writers' room with the deadpan headwriter and the witty British Lucy. It's devolved into melodrama. But even so. I love to see Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford and that Harriet. I will cherish the few, final, terrible episodes. I will. Because it's all I have left.
Except for "Entourage." Ari Gold has to be the best character. Ever. I can't even dislike him, because I love him so much. He has the best lines. His wife has some good lines too. As do his assistants. We're on season 2, so don't ruin it for me, those of you who are in the know.
Writing? What writing?

Word Whore Update

Well. Son is in Bug Camp this week, so I'm back to the Word Whoring. I passed the 40,000 word mark (I'm at 41,195) But that's not quite halfway to the 90,000 word goal that I may have to revise, just for my sanity.
But I want some kind of draft by the end of summer. I realize that I will have to do revising, in that I have some ideas about earlier chapters, etc. But it will be nice to finish a draft of something!!
I am here at the downtown library where they are setting up for the summer festival already. It's a bit crazy outside, with the tents and whatnot. MB and I saw a dog swimming in the fountain.
Dog update: Gus is okay. His bite seems to be healing and he hasn't been complaining, so I assume that means he is alright. We're keeping him away from the dog park for the time being. He almost yanked my arm off last night. Geez!

5K Update

Well, my 5K was okay. It was hotter than I expected at 8:25 when I began the uphill finish. (Uphill finish? Whose idea was that?) On the plus side I passed some people who looked younger than me. On the minus side, many, many, many Masters runners beat me by 10 minutes. And a 79-year-old woman finished right behind me.
Another plus was the pancake breakfast, which MB, Son and Son's Friend also got to indulge in. It was very good. I was also chatted up by a man in the 50-59 age division at the starting line. This made me feel better (wouldn't I make a great second trophy wife?) and worse (so this is my fate, I'm now only attractive to men over 50? And my husband).
We had Son's Friend for a sleepover last night. They went to bed at 10:30 and got up at 5:45. Yes, that's right, 5:45. I had to get up at 6:30 anyway for the race, but still. There will be enforced napping today.
Alright. So here are my stats.
I finished in 28:08, making my pace approximately 9 minutes/mile. Or, as I like to think of it, only slightly faster than an octogenarian. My goal was an 8:30 mile, but I didn't reach that. Maybe next time. I think my first mile was under that, but, as they say, I started too fast.
There was an award ceremony after. I liked watching the young girls get their medals. They were cute. I think I liked to run when I was younger, and then I had my love of running killed by a terrible track coach in junior high, Mr. Bodily. I'm not joking.
I'm getting the love back.
But I still think the running should get easier, shouldn't it?
Today I'm shopping for a swimming suit. I will triumph. I will!!

Nothing + Nothing = Nothing

Here's an update on what I've been doing: nothing. Well not strictly nothing, but nothing productive. Son was supposed to be in a language camp this week, but there were not enough people signed up, so it was canceled. Which means that we've been holed up, plus MB's computer troubles, so you can probably imagine for yourselves the domestic drama that we've been embroiled in.
What have I been obsessing over this week? Thanks for asking. My current obsessions are

1. Entourage
2. The Sopranos
3. The Office, and all that entails: John Krasinski, Evan Almighty, Toby, etc.
4. Studio 60: Why does it have to end, sob, sob, etc.
5. New Music: I need some, I'm getting bored, etc.
6. I'm not writing
7. Maybe writing doesn't matter, after all, when I'm dead, I'll be dead, not looking down from above saying "Look how much everyone enjoys my writing!"
8. Swimming
9. Running (I'm doing a 5K on Saturday)
10. Reading shallow things
11. Disliking successful writers whom I won't name, but who might have some talent, but also get things published in magazines, like The New Yorker, for example, not because they are good, but because of who they are.

So now you're up to date. I hate everyone who's not blogging, by the way. Please blog and save me from my shallow reading and self-loathing.

ErinAlice + HighTouch = Dr. Write

Borrowing from the inventive genius of ErinAlice and HighTouchMegaStore, I have found inspiration for a new post: A combination of Conversations with Son, and Some of Us.

Son: Bacon comes from pigs.
Son's Friend: Animals are made from meat. Like cows are meat. And we are meat.
Son: No. We're made of water. You're mostly water.
SF: And meat.
Son: Mom, are we meat?
SF: We are meat.

Recent accomplishments from the domestic sphere of Dr. Write and Middlebrow:

• Some of us have finished the final chapter of our dissertation
• Some of us have learned how to swim (back float and arm part of crawl)
• Some of us are still reading Cloudsplitter (9 months and counting)
• Some of us stayed up late every night watching at least 3 episodes (per evening) of "The Office" Season 2
• Some of us spent all morning trying to figure out how we could watch Season 3
• Some of us can't sleep at night because we are secretly worrying that Pam and Jim will/will not get together (if they get together, the show will fall apart/be cancelled)
• Some of us have started and abandoned several novels we were reading this week
• Some of us have lost confidence in our ability to finish any writing project longer than 25 pages
• Some of us need a schedule to get any work done
• Some of us run because it makes us feel like we have accomplished something, anything, please god, I just want the feeling of having finished something
• Some of us need some friends to distract us (hint, hint)