Black Cherry Blues

From singles 2

Then a breeze springs up and dries the sweat on your face and neck, you wipe your eyes clear on your sleeve, scrub the ball against your thigh, fork your fingers tightly into the stitches, and realize that the score is irrelevant now, that your failure is complete, that it wasn't so bad after all because now you're free and alone in a peculiar way that has put you beyond the obligations of victory and defeat.

This is the first book I'm re-reading or, rather, re-read. (Not ever. But in the context of reading Robicheaux.) I listened to it on tape less than 2 years ago. I remember carrying my "boom box" down to our bedroom in the house on Maundrell Terrace and listening to Dave, Clete, and Dixie Lee. I wondered if I maybe should have just checked it off...

but I'm glad I didn't.

Wow. This is Burke at his best - as I might have guessed seeing that it was for "Black Cherry Blues" that he won the Edgar Award and CWA Macallan Gold Dagger (whatever that last award is. I assume it is British. The copy I have was published by Phoenix Paperback (an imprint of Orion Books of London). I'm going into this detail because - before discussing the novel - I want to discuss the BOOK.

Wow. Obviously Phoenix Paperbacks has a spell check. There were no mis-spelled words. There were interesting phrases, however, like:

... the way billows of fig rolled out of the swamp in the morning...
... we fished for white trout out on the salt, when to crab boils and fish fries...
... it looked as though spring had never touched the land here, as thought this place had been predestined as moonscape...
... I pulled to the side of the road, seat boiling off my face, my windows thick with steam.

That's just a sampling. I've never encountered anything like this before. The book is thick with typos. I've decided to purchase a US copy from Amazon and make a gift of it to the Brisbane Library System. I'm debating about sending a letter to James Burke and Phoenix Paperbacks. (Kevin laughs.)

Now, back to the NOVEL.

I enjoyed reading this even though I already knew the story (sort of. My memory is fast slipping down an ugly slope toward total amnesia.) While listening to the beautiful southern voice of Will Patton reading is magical, I don't appreciate Burke's prose and descriptive passages as thoroughly on tape. I read sitting in a chair. Maybe I'm drinking tea. I listen while driving, while doing dishes, while sorting papers. A lot gets lost in the process.

My "hit list".
- Beautifully written, poetic passages.

I'll never forget that summer, though. Its' the cathedral I sometimes visit when everything else fails, when the heart seems poisoned, the earth stricken, and dead leaves blow across the soul's windows like bits of dried parchment.

- The re-introduction of Clete Purcel who is monumentally contrite and who sincerely loves his friend, Dave.

"Why is it you always make me feel like anthrax, Streak?"

...I walked off toward a group of children with whom Alafair was playing tag. Then Clete called after me, in a voice that made people turn and stare. "I love you anyway, motherfucker."

- Folksy descriptions of people and events. Statements like "the best part of that guy ran down his daddy's leg" and "he's just on of those guys who'll always have his elevator stuck between floors" may seem written to you, but I've known people who talk like this.

- An interesting idea about time and God, if you're inclined to believe in such things.

I made a peculiar prayer. It's a prayer that sometimes I say, one that is perhaps self-serving, but because I believe that God is not limited by time and space as we are, I believe perhaps that He can influence the past even though it has already happened. So sometimes when I'm alone, especially at night, in the dark, and I begin to dwell on the unbearable suffering that people probably experienced before their deaths, I ask God to retroactively relieve their pain, to be with them in mind and body, to numb their senses, to cool whatever flame licked at their eyes in their final moments.

It will probably stick with me in the way that the science fiction story I read years ago about a race who would remove people from planes that were about to crash and replace them with assorted body parts. (I'll have to ask Kevin if he remembers the title of this story.)

- Nutria. Since we've been collecting words at work, I make a point to write down things I encounter that I don't know. In Burke's books I always find several- including lots of fish and other things he's eating. Like nutria. Which also make some characteristic sound in the bayou - though I haven't been able to find this on line.

- Great bad guys who've done really awful things. (A big hello to Sally Dio! But, sorry man. You are WAY over shadowed by Harry Mapes and Charlie Dodds.)



My criticism.
- Come on, Dave. How is it that you are 50 years old and you've only had 3 significant relationships with women: your mother, your first wife, and Annie (wife #2) and now you're adding to this list Darlene- who you've known for a week at most, been in the company of 3 times, and slept with once??? At, at the end of the book (and of your time in Missoula) you're in love with Tess and think you should have married her? You didn't even kiss her!

But sometimes at dusk, when the farmers burn the sugarcane stubble off their fields and the cinders and smoke lift in the wind and settle on the bayou, when red leaves float in piles past my dock and the air is cold and bittersweet with the smell of burnt sugar, I think of Indians and water people, of voices that can speak through the rain and tease us into yesterday, and in that moment I scoop Alafair up on my shoulders and we gallop down the road through the oaks like horse and rider toward my house, where Batist is barbecuing gaspagoo on the gallery and paper jack-o-lanterns are taped to the lighted windows, and the dragons become as stuffed toys, abandoned and ignored, like the shadows of the heart that one fine morning have gone with the season.

Spiders, Floats, and Lemonade

I finally got it.

It really started two weeks ago when I was left alone (with my able bodied nurses) in the clinic for a super-long weekend. And, there was a big-ass spider in the women's toilet. "It was one of 'these,'" I said as I jumped into a broad based stance and spread my arms out menacingly. "I shall be using the men's room."

They laughed. Then, equipped with a can of Aussie "Raid", we inspected the restroom. And, of course, it was not there.

This isn't a story of how I ruptured my bladder. This is a story of how my spider rendition persisted. And, grew. Then, morphed.

Repeatedly, for the next week, I was asked "what kind of spider did you see?" And, while I believed it was a "huntsman"- though this one was most likely a "huntswoman" and would, no doubt, be voting for Sarah Palin if only Australian Spiders could vote in the US election - I mimed the answer and threw myself into the spread-eagle-spider-on-the wall pose. Eventually everybody had seen my show and the conversation became more philisophical. Not, how could a spider of that size vanish into thin air? but, what is a spider?

To which Kayla responded "ice cream and lemonade".

Eeewwwwwhhhh.

Which brings me back full circle to Sunday's revelation as we were tooling down Gympie on the way home from the grocery. It was then I remembered: Australians don't mean lemonade when they say lemonade. They're asking for something like Sprite or 7-up: a lemon soda. They want the "un-cola".

So - as with all great questions - one answer leads to more questions.
- What do Australians call lemonade? (lemon juice + water + sugar)??
- Why do they call those ice cream drinks "spiders"?
- If they combined coke with ice cream, is that a spider? a tick? a centipede?
- Where did I see Barq's root beer for sale?

The Red Dragon Returns

From singles 2

Last week Kevin located a distributor in Brisbane!! We decided that a used or reconditioned distributor would be sufficient for our needs. The Red Dragon only had to chug about for a couple of years more and for the cost of a new (and long awaited) distributor we could buy two or three less than new distributors.

Anyway, Kevin found it and on my day off last week (Thursday) I took the train to Windsor and learned that a distributor fits nicely into a green shopping bag.

Yesterday (Tues.) was our appointment to get this new distributor (which it was, in fact. New, but "generic".) installed. Kevin's plan was to begin the journey to the garage on Monday. He wanted to see if he could make it...or at least get out of the driveway before calling for a tow.

1.5 KM.

So, now we have a new cam (timing) belt and a new distributor and a new radiator and four shiny tires. (The tires are not new- though one is newly patched. It is just that every time Honda looks at our car, they shine or re-shine or re-re-shine the tires.)

And, the car runs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Big Foot Sighting!

From singles 2

Notice to Barack

Kevin and I have been notified that we are now registered to vote. Just waiting for our absentee ballots to arrive. Not knowing exactly what to expect, we've been practicing making x's and filling in squares and pushing out chads. "Go Chad! Out! There shall be no hanging!!"

Heaven's Prisoners

From singles 2

I was just off Southwest Pass, between Pecan and Marsh islands, with the green, whitecapping water of the Gulf Stream to the south and the long, flat expanse of the Louisiana coast line behind me - which is really not a coastline at all but instead a huge wetlands area of sawgrass, dead cypress strung with wisps of moss, and a maze of canals and bayous, that are choked with Japanese water lilies whose purple flowers audibly pop in the morning and whose root systems can wind around your propeller shaft like cable wire. It was May and the breeze was warm and smelled of salt spray and schools of feeding white trout, and high above me pelicans floated on the warm air currents, their extended wings gilded in the sunlight, until suddenly one would drop from the sky like a bomb from its rack, its wings cocked back against its sides, and explode against the water's surface and then rise dripping with a menhaden or a mullet flapping from its pouched beak.
But the sky had been streaked with red at dawn, and I knew that by afternoon thunderheads would roll out of the south, the temperature would suddenly drop twenty degrees, as though all the air had suddenly been sucked out from under an enormous dark bowl, and the blacked sky would tremble with trees of lightning.

I was looking forward to reading this after having so recently seen and been disappointed by the movie. (Sometimes I don't even understand myself.) Would I enjoy the book since I knew the story? Would my negative impression color over to the novel?

Above you have the first two paragraphs of the novel. Very quickly it was looking like I was going to be pleased, for in this book unlike either the movie or "The Neon Rain" the tree and bayous, the water moccasins and alligators, the sky and the weather were sharing focus with the action. And, it isn't just that I like a pretty picture. I really like a well crafted turn of phrase: "tremble with trees of lightning."

The movie had been faithful to the storyline of the book (with a few exceptions: number of gunners, Dave's relationship with the sheriff and the stripper, who's dead at the end). And, let me point out here- Clete Purcel is NOT a party in the book. (And, I'm guessing he isn't in "Electric Mist of the Confederate Dead", either. All this means 1. I was wrong to complain and 2. it must take quite some time before Dave is ready to forgive Clete (and Clete is ready to make his way back to Louisiana having fled the country at the end of "Neon Rain".)

OK. So the plot is pretty much the same. Its just that the book is so much richer thanks to Burke's descriptive passages. For example, early in the story Dave is "visited" by two goons who beat the crap out of him. The attack is ugly and painful in both the book and the movie. In the book, however, we end with:

I lay in an embryonic ball on my side, blood stringing from my mouth, and saw them walk off through the trees like two friends whose sunny day had been only temporarily interrupted by an insignificant task.

I love that image and how much it conveys about the attitude and character of his attackers. Violence is just part of their day - like kicking a can or picking a flower. They are neither agitated by it nor rushing off in fear of being caught.

Obviously, Dave falls off the wagon in the book as well as the movie. His drunken behavior was hard to watch in the film. It is pointless and self destructive- you know - alcoholism. It is no more impressive in the book, but because we're watching from inside Dave it is painted heavily with remorse. And, it comes and goes much more quickly. (And, maybe it helped to be reading it alone rather than watching it with Kevin. It is embarrassing to watch one of your hero's fall so low in front of someone to whom you are only just introducing him.)

Like the Atchafalaya Basin, the Cajun people - particularly Batist and Dave's (memories of his dead) father - color the novel in a way they don't the movie. Sure, we have to have Batist and Bubba Roque (Bubba happens to be the best thing in the movie)- but the dialect feels stilted and foreign. The odd manner of throwing in pronouns sounds awkward - like a child reading poetry. I want to hear this spoken by someone who knows. And, like other Southern American peoples, I love the stories they tell.

I didn't have an answer for her. But my father, who had been a fisherman, trapper, and derrickman all his life, and who couldn't read or write and spoke Cajun French and a form of English that was hardly a language, had an axiom for almost every situation. One of these would translate as 'When in doubt, do nothing.' In actuality he would say something like (in this case to a wealthy sugar planter who owned property next to us), 'You didn't told me about your hog in my cane, no, so I didn't mean to hurt it when I pass the tractor on its head and had to eat it, me.'

So, I'm back on my Robicheaux horse and riding off to the "Black Cherry Blues".

Japanese Women Don't Get Old or Fat

From singles 2

This was a first for me. I actually read a cook book. It isn't entirely a cook book. There are plenty of pages where Naomi reflects upon growing up and eating in Japan, discusses Japanese food history and reviews why a Japanese diet may be more healthy. And, more importantly, there are NO PICTURES of food.

"So,how did this happen?" you ask.

I was at the Asply Hypermarket. I was hungry. And, the book cost $5.95.

I have made the teriyaki fish (with salmon). You'll quickly see one of the problems I (as an American) have with the book. Though Naomi and William live in NYC and have so for years and most likely wrote the book there, this particular copy is a UK edition. Not only must I contend with the damn metric system, but they have this odd (to me) inclination to measure amounts of some ingredients (like vegetables) in mass units (grams) when I'd prefer (and better understand) volume units (1/4 cup): 75 g finely chopped Napa cabbage. Am I supposed to weigh that? or look at the funny "other" side of my measuring cup?

Anyway- I've included a recipe, though I've put some of it in my own words.

Teriyaki Fish

Four 125 gram (4 oz) fillets (each 1.5 cm thick) of salmon, striped bass or halibut
1 T canola oil

Marinade:
2 T sake
4 t soy sauce

Teriyaki Sauce:
50 ml mirin (= 3 T + 1 t)
2 T soy sauce
1 t sugar


1. Make the marinade by blending the sake and soy sauce in a shallow dish. Place the fish fillets flesh side down in the dish. Marinate for 10 minutes.

2. Make the teriyaki sauce by blending together the mirin, soy sauce and sugar in a small bowl whisking until the sugar has dissolved.

3. Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat. Using kitchen paper, gently blot each fish fillet on both sides to absorb any excess marinade. Place the fillets in the frying pan (skin side down, if the fish has skin) and cook for 5 minutes. Turn the fillets and cook for 1 minute more.

4. Transfer the fish to a large plate and peel off any skin.

5. With kitchen paper, wipe out any excess grease from the pan. Place the pan back over medium-high heat and add the teriyaki sauce. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and simmer for 1 minute. Add the fish. Tip the pan slightly and spoon some of the teriyaki sauce over the fillets. Cook them for 1 minute or until the center portion is just cooked through.

6. Arrange the fish on individual serving plates and top with the hot teriyaki sauce.

"And, what do you think?" you ask.

The salmon was good. The book was ok- a little food fantasy. But, honestly, I'd rather read a menu.

And, here's a question: how long does a Japanese woman wait for a Honda Distributor???

Clues, clues, clues, clues

Thought I'd give you a little help with the find the Ann puzzle.

The year: 1976. One of those numbers will help you longitudinally.

The place: The OHIO State Fair competition.

The program: some military tattoo- I've forgotten the full name, but I bet I could still play part of it. Give me a bottle, I'll blow across it. Followed by, you guessed it! Van McCoy's "The Hustle". We probably looked a lot like the prisoners in the video- only less orange. Finally, "No Man is an Island".

I believe we scored a 2- which won't help you much unless you square it.

Now, from the top....... "Do the Hustle!"

P.S. I wonder what effect enforced line dancing has on crime recidivism? I wonder if they have dance in women's prisons? It is probably too hot in the Phillipines for me, anyway.

Dexter in the Dark

From singles 2

This is the third novel in the Dexter series - the series that inspired or spawned the Showtime series "Dexter". Dexter is a Miami forensic investigator who in his "off" time is also a serial killer. Dexter has been trained by his foster father, Harry, to be exceptionally tidy so as not to get caught and to select only other evil serial killers as victims. In this novel Lindsay introduces a supernatural element. The "Dark Passenger" inside Dexter who helps inform him of the evil in others and drives his blood lust is identified as something "other" to Dexter when, after encountering 2 cooked and decapitated female bodies with ceramic bulls' heads on their necks, it takes flight. Dexter is left to discover all he is left with is his humanity and its uncomfortable emotions. All this takes place while Dexter is preparing to marry his girlfriend, Rita, and is being harangued by Rita's serial-killer-children-in-the making - Astor and Cody - to whom Dexter has promised to "show things".

There. That covers most of the action. Action is not exactly flying through this novel. Most of the story is taking place internally to Dexter. He's being stalked. He's experiencing fear and anger. He's trying to figure out what to do about the caterer and the kids. Thankfully there isn't much of either his sister or Sgt. Doakes. (WHY there is ANY of Sgt. Doakes is a mystery to me. My only real guesses are 1. he provides a bit of chuckle when he first appears 2. we are being set up for book #4.) And, the kids are not too annoying. It is helpful that they are not overly talkative and I must admit I was amused by their explanation as to how it came to be that they were standing over the neighbor's cat, which was tied up then duct-taped to a table, with hedge clippers..."It was an accident".

Similarly, there is plenty of good Dexter dialogue. Funny stuff, if you've got a dark sense of humor.

She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing at all," I said. "I just couldn't sleep."

Rita bent her face down toward the floor and shuffled over to the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup. Then she sat across the table from me and took a sip. "Dexter,"she said, "it's perfectly normal to have reservations."

"Of course," I said, with absolutely no idea what she meant, "otherwise you don't get a table."

Fall equinox

From singles 2

The summer had burnt itself out; the heat had lifted one day in a breeze off the Gulf, the sky turned a darker blue, the trees a deeper green. Stubborn boys still tried to hold on to baseball games in sand lots, but each morning was cooler now, the sunlight gold and warm at noon, and you could hear high-school marching bands thundering on afternoon practice fields.

It sneaked up on me. I had it marked on my calendar and still it slipped by. Of course, for me it was really the spring equinox. Anyway, I'd likely have continued to not recognize it except I found this really wonderful passage in "Neon Rain" about the advent of autumn. I wonder if anyone anywhere in Australia can relate to the thundering of high school marching bands?

And, there IS a prize to anyone who can pick me out of that line up.

The Neon Rain

From singles 2

"...I was forced to learn about some things that went on in my head. I don't like the world the way it is, and I miss the past. It's a foolish way to be."

The Neon Rain. Introduction to Dave Robicheaux and, yes, an explanation of the nickname "Streak". Clete's there, too; troubled, into trouble. Dave and Clete are partners, but not bonded to each other as they are in future novels. I look forward to how/why Dave manages to forgive and embrace Clete. Annie's introduced and I must say she's got spirit. I understand why Dave might be instantly in love. I'm not so sure why she fell for him so quickly, however. If my first date with a man ended with me being tied up and gagged and soon to be killed in my own home, I'm thinking I probably don't show up at his houseboat after he's stood me up and rip off all my clothes.

If my only exposure to the Robicheaux novels was "The Neon Rain", I'd probably not be embarking on a 17 novel path. It lacked the finess of later writing. I missed the depth of relationship between characters- Dave's really a man on his own here. An alcoholic, man-on-his-own is just not that engaging. I have to wonder if any of my lack of enthusiasm is still the lackluster image of Alec Baldwin as Dave. On a more positive note, however, there were moments of great Burke writing.

I tried to envision the man. The face remained an empty, dark oval, like the pitted center of a rotten piece of fruit, but I could see the simian hands. They were strong, ridged with knuckles, thick across the palm, but they were not made for work or for touching a woman's breast or even for tossing a ball back and forth with boys. Instead, they curved readily around certain tools that in themselves were only discardable means to an end: the .22 Magnum revolver, the.410 pistol, the barber's razor, the cork-tipped ice pick, the Uzi. He loosed the souls from their bodies, the grief and terror from their eyes; he unstuck them from their mortal fastenings, sawed the sky loose from the earth's rim, eased them as a lover might into the wheeling of the stars. Sometimes as night he watched his deeds on the ten-o’clock news, ate ice cream out of a carton with a spoon, and felt a strange sexual arousal at the simplicity of it all, the purity, the strobelike glow where their bodies had been outlined with chalk, the remembered smell of death that was also like the smell of the sea, like copulation, like birth.

HELP! This dog is being held hostage by Honda!

From singles 2

A certain someone is getting very, very hairy waiting for the red dragon to recover. Zelda had an appointment for grooming last week Thursday - I told you that already, didn't I? How I decided to turn around half way there only to find that the car could not make it back home? Eventually we got back and I called the groomer and got the first available (on a day off for me) -- October 18 (or in Australian 18 October.)

So, now it is Friday. And, Kevin has just arrived home from the Honda garage where Honda-check-part-two has just occurred. Kevin has arrived home ON THE TRAIN. The car died within 1 km of the garage.

OK. OK. OK. OK. This isn't a surprise because they didn't actually DO anything today. Or, more accurately, they did nothing to ameliorate the problem that they've identified. The good news is they think they've identified the problem.

And, the cooling system works just fine.

It seems we need a new distributor. And, maybe a timing belt. You know, about $2000 of repair on our $4000 car.

And, as Kevin says, that's also the good news.

The bad news- said distributor lives in Japan and it will take THREE (3!!) WEEKS to get it. Undoubtedly, some one legged octogenarian must hop then swim from Japan to Australia. Obviously, Honda has no facility to motor a part to an airport. Probably all their part delivery trucks need new distributor caps.


Three weeks- which interestingly, though not surprising, comes AFTER the 18th of October.

Brisbane City Romp!

From singles 2

Last weekend Jane, Hubertus, Anna, Andrew, Kevin and I participated in the Brisbane City Romp. Sort of a scavenger-hunt-meets-Amazing-Race counting frenzy. As there was a suggestion that we might want to dress in costume or at least sync, we all wore one of Kevin's XL "I'd rather be playing Cosmic Encounter" t-shirts. We didn't win the best dressed competition. I'm not sure who did- but I was plenty amazed by the effort that some teams put into their look: frogs, Smurfs- yes, with blue painted faces- UGH- sweating in the sun, police officers, the crew from Scooby Doo. There were wigs and hats and fairy wings. My favorite group was the team that dressed like Waldo, ala "Where's Waldo?" (which I've only JUST NOW learned is the title in North America and here it would be "Where's Wally?") It just felt thematically correct.

Each team was given 4 clue sheets - can't quite figure that out since there were 6 of us - on which were clues to 50 locations. You could travel between locations in any order within the time limit of two hours. At each location you'd be given a task to complete which would ultimately provide you with an answer - often a number. Each task/question was also presented with 5 multiple choice options. With luck, your answer matched up with one of the choices and you could then phone in your guess.

In two hours we visited 20 sites and correctly answered 17 questions and satisfactorily performed one belly dance. (That would be a total completion of 18 sites.)

I'm not sure how Kevin and I would have done on our own. No, I take that back. We'd have floundered. We have no mobile phone.

UPDATE: Andrew and Anna let us know that the results were *finally* posted on the Brisbane Romp site. Here's a summation of some potentially interesting data:

Our results can be found at http://www.brisbanecityromp.com/results/overall?page=7

Gamers Without A Name:

Overall Placing: 692nd

Category (Family & Friends) Placing: 567th

Check Points Visited: 21 (I think they counted the tie-breaker)

Romp Day Points: 284

Fund Raising Points: 0

Total Points: 284

There were 11 teams with the same score, but we were listed on top, so our tie-breaker guess must have been closer than the other teams'.

There were 1576 teams, so we're in the top 44% (at least we're in the top half...).

There were 1322 teams in the Family & Friends category (obviously the popular category!), so we're in the top 43% there (basically the same).


-------

http://www.brisbanecityromp.com/results/overall

The overall winner was 'Can't stop the romp', who were also in the Family & Friends category.

Team Members: 4

Check Points Visited: 21 (same as us!)

Romp Day Points: 624

Fund Raising Points: 100

Total Points: 724

Clearly, they visited a lot of the triple-scoring sites. Hubertus' strategy was right!

-------

The 'kicking yourself' award goes to:

Team: Lame Capybarras

Overall Placing: 7th

Category (Family & Friends) Placing: 6th

Team Members: 6

Check Points Visited: 22

Romp Day Points: 628

Fund Raising Points: 0

Total Points: 628

If they had contributed $200, they would have been *1st* instead of *7th*!

This title has been censored

Friday Kevin took the $%**!# car to the radiator shop. They determined that it was unflushable. It was obstructed. We have a new radiator. And, a new thermostat.

And, the car runs no better.

Automotive woes- or why Zelda still needs a haircut

Have I mentioned recently that Michael Jackson's losing his touch? For the last couple of months our car has been napping - or at least attempting to nap - at lights. Once we're no longer accelerating - we're waiting for green or for the second train to pass - it stalls. I found a "work around". Put car in park and put foot on accelerator. That worked OK, but there was nothing to help the occasional missed beats when driving. So, we called in the experts.

Three times.

Twice we got new spark plugs.

Monday the Honda garage told us we were running "hot and rich". And, that somehow isn't a good thing... So, they fixed the "rich" and referred us to another place for a radiator flush and new thermostat.

Kevin, remembering that my day off this week was Thursday and that I'd been waiting three weeks to get Zelda into the groomer scheduled the fourth garage visit for Friday.

But, you already know what happened. The car didn't make it to the groomer. It was obvious that the stop and stop traffic was a very bad idea and so I turned around to drive the easy way: back home and out of traffic. But it was too late. Now, the car doesn't just stall when it is idling. NO. Now it doesn't want to start moving after the light changes and I don't even want to remember what it was like trying to go up hill. Eventually I found a spot on Appleby where I could park. Across from the ABC Daycare which generously allowed me the use of their phone. I don't handle these situations well. Kevin, fortunately, does. He managed to talk me down until he figured out where I was and then arranged for Jane to pick me up.

A super humongous THANK YOU to Kevin and Jane from Ann and her scruffy dog (who may get another Ann cut this weekend.)

Sick Puppy

From singles 2

This is a work of fiction. All names and characters are either invented or used fictitiously. To the best of the author's knowledge, there is no such licensed product as a Double-Jointed Vampire Barbie, nor is there a cinematic portrayal thereof.

However, while most events described in this book are imaginary, the dining habits of the common bovine dung beetle are authentically represented.

I must admit- I did laugh out loud. Despite the harrowing reminders that human development is ruining the natural beauty of Florida, it is a lot of fun. Twilly Spree is an environmentalist with anger management issues- at least that is what the court told him when he was ordered to participate in a workshop after blowing up his uncle's bank. In "Sick Puppy" he follows lobbyist Palmar Stoat home after witnessing his frequent littering and eventually (after the scene with the dung beetles) kidnaps his Labrador.

Carl Hiaasen, beyond being blessed with copious vowels, possess keen insight into the mind of the Labrador retriever. The lab mind is NOT the emotionally sensitive, wise, and loving mind of the golden retriever. The lab mind is completely fixated on FOOD, SMELLS, PLAY.

The dog was having a grand time.

That's the thing about being a Labrador retriever--you were born for fun. Seldom was your loopy, free-wheeling mind cluttered by contemplation, and never at all by somber worry; every day was a romp. What else could there possibly be to life? Eating was a thrill. Pissing was a treat. Shitting was a joy. And licking your own balls? Bliss. And everywhere you went were gullible humans who patted and hugged and fussed over you....Labradors operated by the philosophy that life was too brief for anything but fun and mischief and spontaneous carnality.

And, there's more!

Without a doubt- the funniest rape scene I've ever encountered. I feel horrible saying that. But, Kevin has always insisted that I am the sick one.

Movies

Last week was marked by movies that I really wanted to see but ended up not being very satisfied with. And, of course, I drug Kevin along with me. Note- spoilers lurk here.

On Monday Kevin called me at work to suggest we could see "The Visitor" at 6:30 in the city. (It was "cheap night" at the Dendy.) I had seen a preview for this movie in April when I was home and had been eager for it to make its way to Au. When I described the film to Kevin, he wasn't overly impressed, but a check on Rotten Tomatoes suggested that it was critically well received. So, his interest was piqued.

It looked much more upbeat on the trailer... lonely widower rediscovers friendship and emotion and learns to play the drums. Yeah, sure, it is obvious on the trailer that his friend, Terak, is detained by immigration and that he's illegal and ... that probably isn't good. I just never expected we'd give this man his heart back to rip it out, again.

Plus, the tempo was sluggish for a story built around African drumming. Pick up the beat!

"The Visitor" was directed by Thomas McCarthy who did "The Station Agent", another story about a lonely, isolated man and friendship. Kevin and I both really liked "The Station Agent". It was not so depressing and, as Kevin said this morning on the train, "The Station Agent" was shorter...

which we decided was a witless witticism.

Movie 2: "Heaven's Prisoners" - Since I embarked on my Dave Robicheaux adventure, I learned that there are two Robicheaux movies: "In the Electric Mist" with Tommy Lee Jones has yet to be released and "Heaven's Prisoners" with Alec Baldwin. Kevin generously not only found "HP" for me but sat down and watched it last night with me...even though Rotten Tomatoes gives the film a whopping 11% fresh!

With that kind of rating, you don't expect much. It wasn't like going to see "I Want to Believe" where being a fan increased one's appreciation. In particular, I must admit that there was nothing particularly stirring about Dave Robicheaux as embodied by Mr. Baldwin. (The movie did suggest to me just why people keep calling Dave "Streak"...though that was just an inference of mine and I could be wrong. I'm thinking I might learn more from book 1: "Neon Rain".) Dave drunk and despairing is not attractive to watch. (Wonder why it doesn't bother me so much when I'm reading?)

And, where was Clete Purcel??? (I don't think he's included in the next film, either. Maybe his character isn't introduced yet in the series- though they DID talk about "his partner" when he was with the NOPD.)

Farty Towels.

Friday evening (Sept.5th- I'm behind) Kevin gave up gaming to accompany me to "The Faulty Towers Experience" at the New Moon Hotel.

After standing about waiting while Basil and Sybil mingled, we were seated by Manuel. "DAY-POOR," Basil told Manuel. "You still pay," Manuel informed us.

The "experience" was held in a moderately sized function room with about 6 tables for 10. We were seated at a table with one other (friendless) couple. We squished together on one side anticipating that more people would be joining us. Alas, the majority of Brisbanite fans of Fawlty Towers have 5 or more other friends and these groups were each seated at separate tables.

While most of the food service was accomplished by wait-staff from the NMH, Manuel carried around garnish, poured water, stacked dishes, and showed off pictures of his sister's ass. Basil, on occasion, chatted with us about our dining experience - but was more often involved with bombastically directing Manuel. Sybil, gracious hostess, would check whether we were OK and roll her eyes about the behavior of Basil and Manuel.

It was an amusing evening. We felt a bit left out of the interaction since the actors directed most of their attention towards the full tables. The food, however, was very, very good and while we probably wouldn't go to another one of their dinner theaters (certainly not "Kath and Kim"...but "Rocky Horror"...?), we will go back for dinner.

Birds, birds, birds

From singles 2

Last weekend I was off. Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Wow! What can I say? I had images of getting the garden whipped into shape, spring cleaning the house, doing laundry. You know, having fun.

I have this problem. I blame the babysitter I had when I was in Junior High School, Bobby. Bobby always insisted that we get our work done before we did anything else- like walk over to the IGA to buy Hostess Pies- chocolate or apple. So, until things are "in shape", I have trouble relaxing and doing something just for fun or, god forbid!, doing nothing. And, the long glorious weekend started with two fabulous days of RAIN.

I like a rainy day. But, I don't move very fast. And, it is pretty much impossible to either work in the garden or dry clothes on the line. So, I cleaned up the house, got my hair cut, and then finished reading "Crusader's Cross".

From singles 2

Our neighborhood butcherbirds don't do much on rainy days, either. They congregate on our fence (gate, really) where it passes under the roof of the car port. And, they sing. The acoustics in the damp air with a bit of bouncing off the roof is lovely. I really should have remembered that my camera can record sound. But, instead, I just snuck out and caught a photo of the chorus. (I'll attached a YouTube video for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of listening to butcherbirds.)



This lovely whistling melody is in stark contrast to
a. their eating habits - (from Wikipedia) Butcherbirds are insect eaters for the most part, but will also feed on small lizards and other meat. They get their name from their habit of impaling captured prey on a thorn, tree fork, or crevice. This "larder" is used to support the victim while it is being eaten, to store prey for later consumption, or to attract mates

and

2. the vocal stylings of the much more visually flamboyant native, the rainbow lorikeet.

From singles 2

Crusader's Cross

From singles 2

"The world was a good place, the early dawn announced by birdsong and blue shadows on the lawn and fog puffing off the bayou. Why let fear and suspicion invade the heart and lay claim on your life?"

Well, yes, I did say I was going to start at the beginning and follow Dave and Clete from (I presume) New Orleans, to New Iberia, to Montana. But, when I went to the library all I could find was 2005's "Crusader's Cross" - book number 14. And, since I was on a Burke high, I had to borrow it.

In "Crusader's Cross", Dave Robicheaux is ensconced in New Iberia. Katrina has yet to blow the house down and send Dave way up into the Rocky Mountains. That's cool with me. I'm entranced by the people and landscape of the Atchafalaya Basin. (I had the same response to Savannah after reading "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil".) But here, in Acadian Louisiana, I'd fit in by name, at least. No more funny mispronunciations.

Already, with only my second book, I'm realizing that my blog reviews may get to be repetitive. I like what I always like with Burke: his prose, his characters, the intertwining of multiple storylines. I also recognize that reading the series in sequence may result in me becoming tired of the "Murder She Wrote" quality of Dave or Clete being personally embroiled in the mystery. I was saying this to Kevin this morning. Then, I reconsidered. Dave and/or Clete are usually caught up in a tangential predicament created by the conjunction of their occupation and their flawed natures. It still might get old - if one reads 17 novels... but it isn't like being a writer whose friends, family, and friends of family keep dying around her. So, forget I said it.

The bottom line is I really enjoyed the book. I frustrated Kevin with it. He had to wait for me to finish a chapter - repeatedly. Fortunately, for him, the chapters are relatively short. In addition, Burke provided me with at least half a dozen words to bring back to work....though, by in large, they are not of an upbeat nature.

"Every Sunday, Clete picks me up in his Caddie and we fish for speckled trout out on West Cote Blanche Bay. Molly, Snuggs, Tripod, and I live on Bayou Teche and in the early-morning hours often see two pelicans sailing low over the water, their extended wings touched by the sunrise. For me, these are gifts enough."

Weekend at Byron Bay

From singles 2

Last weekend Kevin and I joined 2 other couples in an apartment in Byron Bay. The original idea was that we'd go "camping", but I really, really, really prefer a bed and the campsite that had a cabin for Kevin and I was already fully booked. So, we had to rough it in a lovely 3 bedroom apartment - with kitchen, toilets, and showers! Kevin and crew were a bit disappointed by the dim lighting around the game table - but I think overall we were all pleased that we could walk to the beach through the Arakwal Park in about 15 minutes.

Games played: Citadels, Funny Friends, What's it to ya?, and lots of Times Up! No photos of this- though the "Vogue" round of Times Up! would have yielded some classic pics. The problem... my camera with its overzealous flash!!!!!!!!!!

Beach walks- four. Friday late afternoon with Kevin before anyone else arrived. Saturday morning with the entire group down toward the light house. Cartwheels, dolphins, and sunburns. Sunday morning at dawn with Kevin to faux bird watch. Sunday noon on the opposite beach and climbing up to the light house. This walk was very, very windy. (See group photo.) We did, however, get to see whales!

Finally, a run-in at Ikea to buy 8 copies of something I'm giving out for Christmas. EXCITING and GREEN!!

Mamma Mia!

Tuesday night, while Kevin toiled away at reconstructing his computer, I went to see Mamma Mia! It had been on my list of things to do for quite a while. Interestingly, it was not because I thought the trailer looked so good; like many trailers for what are commonly known as "chick flicks" it told the whole story. For Kevin and me that translates into "why go?" However, everyone I spoke with seemed to really enjoy it, as did the radio, and rotten tomatoes. So, I went.

I must admit I had a good time. Beautiful scenery. Infectious tunes (damn!). The story was still satisfying though without much surprise. I laughed some and was moved particularly by the scene above (Dancing Queen).

It did come off a bit like a high school musical, however, and I was left wondering how it might have benefitted or suffered from choosing singers rather than just actors. Surely, there is a significant population of people who do BOTH well? Amanda Seyfried was excellent. Meryl Streep was good. And, the rest, were better than I am. They'd all get roles in the Versailles Community Theater... but...

This one is from Kevin

ROCK ON!

Spring has arrived in Brisbane

From singles 2

Spring is hard for me to recognize here- but I have noticed the jasmine has begun to bloom so the house is filled with its sweet, heady scent. Additionally, several of my sweet peas have braved a flower, a volunteer zinnia has jumped the walk and is blooming, and the mango tree is tipped with spiky looking new growth. The other blossoms on plants and trees and vines I see around here have been blooming so for weeks or months. Beauty still.

Swan Peak

From singles 2

I thought I’d carried the day. But that’s the way you think when your attitudes are facile and you express them self-confidently at the expense of others.

My mom sent another book on tape: James Lee Burke’s Swan Peak. It is one of his Dave Robicheaux novels. This one set in Montana*- a beautiful place but not quite as romantic as Louisiana. Listening to Will Patton read Burke is delightful. In general, I love being read to and Will purrs through Burke’s lyrical prose. Very sexy. Kevin knows. If Will calls, I'll be answering.

Anyway, Swan Peak is especially fun because it is so jam packed with flawed and just plain nasty characters. In fact, I enjoyed it so much I checked Wikipedia for a list of the Robicheaux novels and made a plan to read them all from first to last. The challenge here, of course, is that I live in Australia. Not the library system I was spoiled by in Cleveland, Ohio. Or, Fayetteville, NC, for that matter. But, I have put my request in to borrow the first novel (which may or may not exist). And, have considered making a purchase at Amazon. I saw a good looking cat medicine book in there today. We could use a good cat reference.

*Montana- Kevin and I went to a family reunion in Glacier National Park in 2005. July. A very beautiful place. See?

From singles 2

September

This one is dedicated to my Grandmother: Veronica. Happy Belated Birthday. I love you.

September
The goldenrod is yellow,
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges haunt their harvest,
In every meadow's nook;
And asters by the brookside
Make asters in the brook.

From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odor rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all those lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.

Helen Hunt Jackson

The Ice Queen

Be careful what you wish for. I know that for a fact. Wishes are brutal, unforgiving things. They burn your tongue the moment they're spoken and you can never take them back. They bruise and bake and come back to haunt you.

I picked up this book on Sunday morning to take with me to read on the train to the city. It was light. Paperback. 211 pages. Easy to read.

So easy that I couldn't put it down. I finished it on Monday. That is something that is well nigh never heard around here! I nurse books for weeks, for months! I have one I brought from the US- I've been reading it for about 10 years.

Anyway, Alice Hoffman tells a fairy tale for grownups: magic and secrets and monsters and tragedy. But, it isn't a fantasy. The cat doesn't talk. The monsters are monsters of circumstance. The tragedy is the tragedy of life- accidents on icy roads, ill-timed promises, lightening strikes, hunting cats.

It was a pleasure to read AND very helpful. I know now the way to control the burning heat of one struck by lighting.

A little dance

Last night we finished watching the third season of "The Venture Brothers" where we were introduced to the Christian superhero "Bibleman". !! This, of course, sent Kevin and I scrambling to YouTube to learn more. And, was it worth it! Just check out this scene featuring the villain "Shadow of a Doubt".

Speaking of looking up

I gave myself the assignment. Look up.

Kevin is busy preparing to take a test tomorrow. Very busy. I'm trying to stay out of his hair and, simultaneously and conveniently, enjoy the beautiful, sunny, cool weather. So, I took the train into the city and spent a couple hours wandering through Roma Street Parklands with my camera.

As of this moment, the moment of writing, I haven't seen any of the photos I took. I'm trying to get into the swing of this camera and the concept of blind photography. I point the camera in the general direction of the object I want to photograph. Push the button. Laugh as I look at the screen afterwards- because I still can't tell what the composition looks like or if the image is in focus. It all depends on luck and the ability to crop with photoshop. Someday, I'll save up some pennies and buy a single lens reflex camera- with a view finder.

Last night I dreamed

I had to repeat the third grade. Not as a 9 year old. No, as a 47 year old. I figured it was going to be a pretty easy job and wondered if, maybe, I could test out of it...but then considered that I knew next to nothing about Australian history and geography.

I often find myself back in school. Sometimes, I'm teaching. More often, I'm a student. And, usually, it is the end of the term and I've not attended any classes. How will I complete all the assignments and pass the final with only the weekend to prepare?

This was a novelty, however. Grade school. And, the feeling of certain success.

I'd guess things are looking up for me.

The Shipping News

why don't you "drive around and learn all four of our roads"?

Today I finished listening to "The Shipping News" on CD. Another story of imperfect, difficult, and true love by the author of everybody's favorite writer of gay cowboy stories... I mean "Brokeback Mountain". I have no other experience of Annie Proulx - so I have to compare. Well, maybe I don't HAVE TO, but I feel it is a reasonable thing to do. Both are stories of finding and losing love -though very different loves and by this I do not mean different by sexual orientation, but rather passionate, overwhelming, consuming love as compared to warm, safe, companionable love - set in remarkable, isolated, vast and beautiful landscapes. In the case of "The Shipping News", it is Newfoundland (in which, I learned, not everyone would consider Canada a foreign country.) I would have liked to have held these words in my hands and lingered over her descriptions of bleak, beautiful, desolate, and destructive winter. Brrrrr. Pass my tea.

From "The Star"

We had a really slow morning yesterday. This gave me ample opportunity to read the local paper, "The Star". I don't usually do this. If I did, I'd have probably known what PCYC care was and would not have read the article "Parents urged to book PCYC care". It never is defined though the implication is that it is some sort of day camp for kids during their school break. The list of activities excited me, however.

"We offer a wide range of organised sport and recreation activities which include art and craft, cooking, martial arts, indoor and outdoor games as well as exciting excursions and incursions."

Hmmmm. Incursions. A sortie into New South Wales? A foray into Figi? An attack on Aukland?

Obviously the choice of page with an article on Vietnam veterans and land mines in S.E. Asia was appropriate!

So, a little Sinead. Incursions to follow the cookies and milk break.

Mark your calendars! - not

This morning I received this notice in my email. I am not sure how it translates into Southern Hemisphere. I guess I need to do a little research. Soon.

Two moons on 27 August 2008

27th Aug the Whole World is waiting for.........

Planet Mars will be the brightest in the night sky starting August.

It will look as large as the full moon to the naked eye. This will
Cultivate on Aug. 27 when Mars comes within 34.65M miles off
earth. Be Sure to watch the sky on Aug. 27 12:30 am .
It will look like the earth has 2 moons.
The next time Mars may come this close is in 2287.

Share this with your friends as NO ONE ALIVE TODAY will ever see it Again.

This will cultivate?? I'm not sure I understand that.

And, the NO ONE ALIVE...do you feel challenged by that statement? or is it only me?

UPDATE: Kevin- making note of the interesting grammar- did a bit of research and reveals that this email is a hoax. Here's the link if you want the details: http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?NewsID=1048503

Zombie Haiku

You'll recall I had today off. Therefore, I had plenty of time to do my qi gong AND log onto Youtube before breakfast. Log onto Youtube and find this: Zombie Haiku. My absolute favorite:

I love my Mama
I ate her with my mouth closed
How she would want it

My Monday Off

It has a nice ring to it! I think I should say it more often...

I'm having a great time. I called my friend, Christine, and learned she's having a baby girl. Then, I mailed off a gift to her- which I had purchased weeks ago. It isn't very girly - but I don't think Christine will mind. I then did a little shopping. I bought a picture to hang in the kitchen. I couldn't turn it down. It was marked down from $140 to $30. Now, I need to rig up something so it hangs a bit lower. Kevin won't mind it. His "eye level" is ringed with clouds. I also picked up a small palm tree. I keep looking for something Zelda will feel is meditation worthy. And, two Mexican sage plants. They were some of my favorite sages in NC. Rapidly growing with big, purple, fuzzy flowers. I also bought a couple of cards. (I better write Uncle Carroll's after I finish here.) I stopped in at a pet store that is going out of buisness and enquired about purchasing a fully set up aquarium. They have 8 to 10 that will be available after the 8th of September. I have the perfect spot...except for a lack of POWER. Maybe I could run a cord from the bedroom. Now, it is time to finish Kevin's birthday gift, pull the meat off the ham hock I cooked yesterday, and bake my molasses cookies.

Nowhere here have you seen the words vacuum, laundry, or iron.

All is good.

In celebration- a little love ballad. I found this yesterday while I was stumbling around youtube. It is a much younger George Benson. Much younger and sweatier. Enjoy.

This one is for my friends in the Northern Hemisphere

Here, it is still winter. Spring officially arrives September 1st. A long way from summer. But, you are there. And, look what I've found! Sometimes you need to go find what George Benson and Al Jarreau are up to. Enjoy!



Not a care in the world.

Zelda with her showbag treasure

Here's my first attempt at making a video with my camera. You'll see- I need practice. Zelda, on the other hand, is very good at what she does. I must learn to open the blinds before letting her loose with a balloon in the ballroom.

ReflEKKAtions

It is no longer EKKA day. Something just as special. My day off. And, while I need to get a birthday card ready for my Uncle Carroll and prepare Christine's and Nan's gifts to mail, I am instead playing with Photoshop and writing up- or at least planning to write up- our recent EKKA EKKsperience.

We went on Sunday. My goal was to beat the crowds and go early. Alas, we are not good at beating crowds. Kevin was frustrated that he only bought a ticket to the city and not a week-long pass to the city...until he was boarding the train and remembered. He would have been really miffed if he'd purchased the pass because he only had to go into work on Monday. Providence. Its not just in Rhode Island.

After a prolonged wait on the sidewalk - no- footpath outside the entrance, we approached the small rectangular hole cut into the 10 inch deep cement wall and bought our EKKA tickets. $22. That seems really expensive for entrance to a fair. I tried to check the price for entrance to the Ohio State Fair for comparison, but as the fair has closed for the year, that information is no longer available.

I've already reviewed the highlights for you. This is just to provide the visual log - not to be confused with the auditory log that WOULD hear if a tree fell in the forest. I've tried something new- and posted the comments about the photos as titles. You may have to replay- I cannot figure out how to increase the amount of time that each photo is displayed.

EKKA DAY

Tomorrow is Ekka Day. Ekka is Australian for Exposition which is Australian for "The State Fair". Around here (to Kevin and I) Ekka Day is known as "the last holiday until Christmas". What sort of country does something like this??? Surely, there is some historic figure with a birthday or a landing or a discovery that would warrant a day off - say, in October? Kevin and I need to lobby for a holiday situation like my cousin Steve has in South Carolina- where they (state employees) take off not only for national holidays but for all the Confederate holidays, as well. The 4th of July, Columbus Day, and Thanksgiving at a minimum. Deluxe package to include Memorial Day, Labor Day (I'll even spell it with a "u", it that would help) and Martin Luther King Day.

Anyway, tomorrow - you'll never guess- Kevin is celebrating with a Big Gaming Event.

We spent last Sunday at "The Exposition". Three hours before the crush of humanity got to be overwhelming. That was enough time to take in my "must sees": a quick run through some of the animal barns, the dog show, the produce and flower displays, and the fine arts competition. We missed the midway and the "man-cutting-wood-with-axe" competition. And, the show bags.

Showbags. They are quite the tradition here. A showbag is a plastic shopping bag filled with stuff- like samples of chips and a ball cap, or six candy bars and a training bra. Honest to god, they fill an entire page in the newspaper with descriptions of all the show bags that will be available FOR PURCHASE. I'm trying to make sense of them- I think that "Christmas stocking" is perhaps more accurate a description than "Halloween bag" - though I suspect that it is the absence of a candy orgy in October that created the emptiness of the soul that showbags fill. A very clever merchandising scheme, Australians get hooked on "Power Ranger" bags as kids... and find as they mature- there is always a showbag designed for them. "My Pretty Pony" gives way to "Perfume" samples. "Ninja Turtles" to "Footie team with beer". Maybe I sound bitter. Maybe I need a little showbag in my life. What would that be.... "Muscle relaxant + Estrogen". Sign me up.

I Am Legend

But are his needs more shocking than the needs of other animals and men? Are his deeds more outrageous than the deeds of the parent who drained the spirit from his child? The vampire may foster quickened heartbeats and levitated hair. But, is he worse than the parent who gave to society a neurotic child who became a politician? Is he worse than the manufacturer who set up a foundations with the money he made by handling bombs and guns to suicidal nationalists? Is he worse than the distiller who gave bastardized grain juice to stultify further the brains of those who, sober, were incapable of a progressive thought?... Really, now, search your soul, lovie - is the vampire so bad?

All he does is drink blood.

What fun! It hasn't been too long since we watched the movie- and the first thing Kevin did after we finished the film was to request a copy of the book from the library for me. Thank you, Kevin.

I got a little bored with Robert's obsession with sex - not having sex and being tormented by lust inspired by the female vampires - and his drinking. Part of that was possibly the inertia of my prior identification of Will Smith as Robert. Part of it is that it is completely outside of my range of experience... unlike confronting the undead. In contrast with the Will Smith movie version of Robert Neville, the novel Neville is a blue collar factory man who has to learn biology from scratch in order to understand the vampires. As a consequence, the reader has a greater understanding of the makings of these ghouls than the movie viewer. I liked that. Most importantly, the end of the book was very, very different from that of the movie. And, while I enjoyed the movie - especially the dog and the dog vampires - the conclusion of the novel (novelette?) was far superior. "I am legend."

Reminded me a bit of Bradbury's "The Million-Year Picnic"

And, now for a little Kipling

I will remember what I was. I am sick of rope and chain.
I will remember my old strength
And all of my forest affairs.
I will not sell my back to man
For a bundle of sugar-cane.
I will go out to my own kind
And the wood-folk in their lairs.
I will go out until the day.
Until the morning break,
Out to the winds’ untainted kiss,
The water ’s clean caress.
I will forget my ankle-ring
And snap my picket-stake.
I will revisit my lost loves
And playmates, masterless.

–Rudyard Kipling, “The Captive’s Dream”

The weekly word

One day two weeks ago when I had the day off, Rob and Kayla came up with the idea that we would all start enhancing our vocabulary. Each week we would each bring a new word into the clinic to share. The word was supposed to be something you've encountered but didn't really know. You'd look that up then educate everyone.

My first word was halcyon (peaceful or heavenly). Last week it was alliteration. I cheated with that word. I already knew it. Thanks, Tim.

But, this is not a story of my words. This is a story of Rob's word. Rob's word for next week.

First, an aside. Rob and Di crack me up. They cannot contain themselves. I wanted to write that they cannot keep a secret- but that may be an exaggeration. They certainly can't keep their next word to themselves until the day of the unveiling. With Di, it went like this.

"You won't get it. My word is oology"

Ann sez "The study of eggs". (It really helps to learn a bit of Latin when embarking on a career in a medical science.)

"Bitch"

Back to the story.

Rob tells me today that he's got his word ready for next week. He's got a big smile. He likes this word and he's hoping he has a word I don't know.

"It's querulous". (See, I told you. They can't keep it in.)

"Argumentative." I said.

"Not quite," he corrected. "It means to be argumentative about trivial matters."

To which Kevin adds- "They say Americans don't understand irony."

Fill up

I stopped today at the Caltex station that is conveniently placed between home and work. It is Saturday and even at 9 AM all but one pump was in use. Well, there were two pumps- but that first pump- the first one I pulled up to was "out of order". So, I say, there was only one available pump.

Number 15.

I filled our tank. ($1.42/liter- it takes higher math to convert that to gallons.) I went inside and was surprised that there was only one person ahead of me at the counter.

"I'll take this bottle of oil." (A good thing to keep handy. Saint Michael has been a bit haphazard with our protection, lately. That's another story.) "And, I have gas on pump 15."

"You mean petrol" the clerk said.

"Yes". Internal dialog- "Argh. Gas- petrol. Petrol - gas. Is it absolutely necessary to correct me? How many pumps do you have numbered 15????" I didn't say any of this.

And, now I have to explain that in Australia there is some sort of fuel they call "Auto gas" or "L.P. gas" that some cars use. I have NO IDEA what this is- except it is cheaper than diesel fuel or normal GASOLINE - I mean petrol.

The exchange between the clerk and I continued.

"In the US, they call everything gas?" She asked.

"Yes." I answered. A bit surprised to not be Canadian.

"What do they call L.P. gas?"

"Uh, don't know. I don't think we have that." I answered. I'm sure I had a confused expression on my face.

"Then", now she is perplexed, "nobody uses gas?"

"No, everybody does."

The man behind me laughed.

I want to believe

The haunting tune...it really makes me smile. I had such a good time checking in with my old friends- Fox Mulder and Dana Scully - last night! Kevin will tell you it was like a long and not exactly superior (he'd actually be less generous) episode from the TV series. Still, I was very pleased. I believe.

Oh, and a tip for those who may not yet have seen the film. Go ahead and watch the credits...all the way to the end.

Waving goodbye.

NNV/ANN

Mammo- grammo

I've already alluded to the fact that last week I finally had my semi-annual mammogram. I was only 2 and 1/2 years late. In Cleveland I had such problems with my health care provider. I was sent an urgent message to "get thyself to a surgeon" after a medical appointment to evaluate a rash I had on my belly and chest. Without even removing my shirt or bra- or any touching- the doctor had identified a lump in my breast for which I required a surgical consult.** I was pissed - and concerned that somewhere there was likely a woman that did have a lump that needed assessing. Well, the surgeon checked me out anyway - after I told him the story. He told me I was OK but that I should have bi-annual exams, including mammograms, to monitor me. WTF?? This was an HMO, so I am not sure what the motivation. I have to guess it was just habit for him. I'd hate to think his brain was engaged.

In January of 2006- before I left Cleveland - I had my mammogram. Again, I was "recalled" to the surgeon. I had calcification in my left breast and they wanted a biopsy. I was a nervous wreck. The house wasn't selling. I had a funky something on my skin that the dermatologist biopsied and now this. The biopsy was just a xray guided needle biopsy. The worst part was the local anaesthetic placement...though it was very strange to see a stereoscopic platform mounted on one's own bloody breast. I had to fight to prevent the subsequent implantation of a piece of titanium to mark the biopsy site. (I'm not sure, but I suspect it had a little flag on it with the words "Kilroy was here" emblazoned on it.) "It is completely safe," they told me. "What kind of LONG RANGE data do you have to support that statement?" I asked as in my mind I reviewed the statistic that dogs with metal bone implants are more likely to develop osteosarcoma. I won. Yay. Small victory.

It took every day as long as they predicted to get the result and that result did not include calling me with report. I had to repeatedly call both the surgeon and the dermatologist trying to learn whether I'd live longer than our house was on the market.

Still, you know the outcome. The house sold at the end of the month and both biopsies came back clear.

So, I've been reluctant to enter back into the clutches of the breast police. I've had an order for the test since Oct 2006! Somehow, I screwed up my courage and made the call. I wanted to do the test during my break in June- but it takes calling more than 6 weeks ahead of time to get to pick your preferred date. Hence- mid July.

Australian mammography equipment is no warmer or more comfortable than US equipment. In fact, in the US they let me wear half a hospital gown. Here, I had to chuck the entire piece onto the waiting chair. At least I had an early morning appointment and the a/c hadn't "warmed up" yet to fully chill the room. Like most of my previous mammograms, I had the pleasure of repeated views. This time, however, I was able to just wait around and didn't have to reschedule for another day. Oh, and then they added a breast ultrasound. At the conclusion of the morning, the technician was "pleased to tell me" that I was "OK".

This week I received the report written by the radiologist who examined my films. I have fascinating breasts with dense, nodular and complex parenchyma and scattered microcalifications. No wonder the good folks in Cleveland wanted to view them so often. I'm beginning to feel a bit like Mt. Rushmore.

**Not to interrupt the flow of this narrative, but there is a funny story to accompany this breast lump saga. Not long after my "surgical scare" one of our finest receptionists left our clinic to move with her partner to Florida. We prepared a photo album of clinic images for her as a remembrance- including a photo of all the female staff with their shirts pulled up over their heads. (Really, it made sense for her at that time.) Anyway, in honor of my super-you-can-see-them-from-across-the-room-fully-clothed, lumpy breasts, I glued gum balls all over my bra. Ah. Those were good days!

The best of both worlds

That is the phrase that Phil used when discussing our new Australian-ness - while remaining U.S. citizens.

And, it's true. I was just contemplating today what I have found to be a really great Australian invention...and, when I came home from work, there was a notice from the U.S. government letting us know that despite record debt and being at war- still we were to receive a check- within 7 weeks - for $600!

Yes! Truly! The best of both!

Oh, and the best thing I've found in Australia.

The sanitary napkins have trivia tidbits printed on the peel-off adhesive paper.

A Creed for the Third Millennium

"And love -- ah, what can I say about love that you, all too human, do not already know? Love yourselves! Love those around you! Love those you do not even know! Waste not your love on God, Who does not expect it and does not need it. For if He is perfect and eternal, then He needs nothing. You are Man, and it is Man you must love. Love wards off loneliness. Love warms the spirit no matter how cold the body might be. Love is the light of Man!" (p. 336)

My- it has taken me months to slog through this book. First published in 1985 by an Australian (Colleen McCullough- of "The Thorn Birds" - fame), I found it one Sunday in May when Kevin very graciously dropped me off in Fortitude Valley for the weekly outdoor, Chinatown Tai Chi class. Except, the Tai Chi gods had decided that May was too much like "winter" and, therefore, there could be no class. Kevin - after leaving me at the Brunswick Street Mall - headed into the city to do some work at his office. His locked office. His locked office from which he would emerge 2 and 1/2 hours later to let me in. So, I flipped through the books at the the used book stall in Chinatown market and picked up this novel. I'm not sure when this copy was printed. The last "printed" date listed is 1992. It originally sold in Australia for $10.95. So, now ten or fifteen years later I bought it for $5.00. I certainly wish we could have obtained that kind of money for all the books I eliminated from our collections before moving from Cleveland.

It took me almost 200 pages of fine print to become engaged with this book. (I do have a problem with letting go of relationships that aren't satisfying!) Beyond being - what is the word? - SLOW, I kept finding myself mildly irritated by the scattered bits of misogynism from a book written in what I felt should have been a reasonably feminist time and taking place in what I believed would be a more enlightened future. Additionally, this Australian has set her novel in "the United States in the not-too-distant future" - yet, for reasons never revealed or maybe even considered, the last president (Augustus Rome) had been in office for four terms and a similar longevity seems likely for the current president. It is probably just me feeling hypercritical- but that's a pretty big departure from American government sensibilities... you know, the 22nd Amendment. Still, I suppose it is no greater change than having a King of Australia and New Zealand. (I learned of that much later.)

Anyway, by the time I found myself yesterday spending all morning at the "Women's Imaging Center"- paying almost $400 for my much postponed mammogram with bonus breast ultrasound - I was hooked. And, as a consequence of that 2 hour wait and 35 minute train ride home and doing nothing yesterday afternoon or this morning, I have finished the book. I enjoyed it- but I'd recommend to anyone interested to start reading midway through. I'll tell you the beginning. In about 6 sentences.

My "infringement"

We got the notice a couple of weeks ago- but I've been negligent in keeping this blog up to date. The speeding ticket.

Of course, it was sent to Kevin. He had to sign a statement- a notarized statement- that he was not the demon behind the wheel on the night in question. We are still waiting for the ticket to come back to me. (ooo! its here!)

But, here are the pieces of the story that interest me.

First.

It isn't a speeding ticket. It is an "infringement notice". It is like talking about toll evasion being an offence- a funny word with more of a social character than I would expect.

Second.

I was going 71 KPH in a 60 KPH zone. Heart pounding- racing home as I feared I was watching my car disintegrate- I was going 6.6 MPH greater than the sanctioned speed. If you are bleeding and need immediate medical care, obviously I am not the person you want to rush you to the emergency room.

Dream a little dream

After a difficult night of trying to sleep while the sliding door beside our bedroom kept grinding open and slamming shut (gamers), I woke this morning to an exciting dream. (Just wait.)

I dreamed I was back at COW and, although I was still teaching there, I was also a student and I needed to do my Independent Study. It was the last weekend of the Fall Semester and, while I had a basic idea of what I wanted to do, I had barely done any library research and I had not yet started writing my literature review. Gary was my advisor and I was at his house trying to talk with him a bit about my project (for the first time). As I'd describe the experiment he would snore comments back to me. (Maybe that was Kevin.) Still, Gary, they were pretty insightful.

My question was whether my subjects, rats I presume, could use taste as a discriminative stimulus in maze learning. (I started out by imagining a complex maze but Gary set me straight. All I need is a Y or T maze. Though in truth, he suggested an X maze.) Anyway, a lick of maple flavor means the reinforcer is in the right arm. A lick of apple means the left arm. I was trying to explain to Gary why this might be interesting- that Garcia's original paper (which is the only one I know since I haven't been to the library- and I've taught that one!) suggested that animals could not necessarily link just any stimulus with any behavior. They could learn to avoid a taste that made them sick but not a solution that was "identified" by noise or light.

This is where Gary got excited and asked (snored) if I was familiar his paper about the power of words (he's a cognitive psychologist) and in my dream now, I did. Words allow us to link disparate sensory information because it is all transformed into a common symbolic language. Animals, lacking words, have greater difficulty making these connections.

So, now I'm thinking if the rats fail to learn the discrimination of which way to turn based on taste - which I thought they still might be able to learn since taste could be associated with foraging and food- but, anyway, if they fail, then perhaps they could learn to turn when the taste was not only associated with a specific turn but with a specific tasting reinforcer. Maple taste - turn left- get maple candy. Apple taste - turn right- get piece of apple. That is even cooler!

Are you excited? I am! I'm ready to jump back into animal learning and cognition with both feet! Let me at it!

I wish I had written this

As I was browsing yesterday's "Blog of Note" ("Beyond Salmon" by Helen Rennie), I found this beautiful descriptive quote about sushi.

It felt like velvet that dissolved in the mouth, like getting a tuna French kiss.

Wow. I want that. But, maybe not for breakfast. (Would I need to brush my teeth first to ban morning breath?)

6:34 AM

Weather report

Winter finally arrived in Brisbane. Overnight lows this week have been around 6 centigrade. As any Queenslander would tell you- that is frrrreeeezing.

While it is easy (very, very easy) for those with Northern North American leanings to say, "Low forties? Freezing? Hah!"- it is pretty uncomfortable when you are living in a building with no insulation and no heat.

(Funny- my spell check / corrector has suggested I mean Queen slander!)

Thanks to John

Thank you for the use of the scanner.

My "not-at-Gen-con" masterpieces.

A face.

A fantastic animal.

A flower.

Building up layers.

(And, maybe later, I'll add the fish.)

B-Con

This weekend the gaming event of the year is being held in our home.

B-Con.

That's Birthday Con.

We're celebrating Brendan's, John's, and Kevin's birthdays.

And, there is only one way to do that. Game from 7 PM Friday until the wee hours of Monday morning.

By the way- I love the way Kevin's "Bootleggers" men wait their turn - like perfect little mobsters- there's only one man standing!

Cursing Ikea

Blasphemy!

Still, last night as I put the futon frame together wrong in yet a 4th way (!), I must admit, I was taking the great four letter name in vain. This frame, the Grankulla, is by no means a sensible creation. Why? Why? Why? would it be necessary to have two different mechanisms for attaching the slats to the lift-me-off-the floor supports???? Yes. On two of the sections the slats screw on (not easily) and on the third they are attached by plastic, yes plastic, nails. Bam! Bam! Bam!

I'm pretty good at reading directions- at least when I start before 8:30 pm. Obviously, this is not true after 8:30. I started out well, sorting the slats into three piles for the 3 futon sections. I carefully studied the pre-drilled holes so that I knew which were the "wide" ones that went in the middle vs the "narrow" ones that went on the other two sections.

Following the wordless directions, I started with the top section. Using our lamo screw driver I "started" the attachment of all the slats associated with this section. I screwed them in as far as I could. Kevin was going to have to finish screwing them in the remaining 3 cm. (Check out the use of that base ten measurement...more of that to come.)

Then, I moved onto the next section: the plastic nail section. Bam! Bam! Bam! I attached the first slat. Then, I was inspired and decided it would be much easier to drive the nails through the slats first so that a bit was poking out that could then be lined up more easily with the holes in the support! I hammered and hammered and hammered until Zelda had a headache. Then, I picked up the first and tried to line it up on the support. It didn't fit!!! Somehow, I had attached the first slat- a wide one- then prenailed the remaining four, NARROW slats! Ugh!

And, wouldn't you know it- the wide slats that I needed were not the slats remaining for the bottom section. Noooooo. Of course not. They were already attached by my painful screw driving maneuvers to the first section.

Let me tell you, as difficult as it is to drive a plastic nail into a too small hole (which I had just done) - that is NOTHING compared to trying to pull out a plastic nail. The nail head is really not meant for that. They would fold and slip out of the teeth of the hammer. Or, just fall apart.

Eventually, with Kevin's help I got them all out- and the screws out and got everything rescrewed (Kevin did this and has the blisters to prove it) and re-hammered. Mostly. The nails fit much better in the slats they were meant for- but still there were two that would neither nail in nor pull out. (See above.)

Next- attach the top two sections together.

Using the wrong screws.

It was as I was replacing these screws and discovering that I had attached the top section to the bottom of the second section (wrong) that I got a mammoth splinter and collapsed. It was after 10:30!





This morning Kevin lovingly asked me if I had recovered. "Yup".

Then, I took a shower. I washed my hair. Applied and rinsed out the conditioner. Then grabbed my Oil of Olay facial cleaner- and washed my hair.

Maybe I answered too soon.

And, so tonight Julian is sleeping in a bed for which the sections are merely pushed together. Hope he sleeps quietly.

Our Big News

After only a week we received notice from the solicitor (that's Australian for lawyer) that our application for permanent residency was approved. Great news- just in time for Kevin's birthday!

Now I need a scanner

I had the best time this weekend cutting and pasting in my collage course! I believe my teacher liked a couple of my "creations"- at least that was what I figured when he kept coming over to "neaten" them up. (And, this wasn't something he did on every piece- and I'm quite certain I was no more tidy on them!) It was really, really fun- though I don't think I have the personality to one day be a great collage master. I am not (in any part of my life) meticulous and extremely precise. I do enjoy messing around, however. I'd love to share with you... but I'd have to buy a scanner. That is unlikely to happen.

Besides, I'm about to mail them off to my mother for her frig.

Happy Independence Day!!

Like any good Australian, I celebrated July 4 by getting my teeth cleaned and a cavity filled. Then, I signed up for a 2 day course at the Brisbane Institute of Art in collage. Finally, I ate Indian food.

Hot dogs. Apple Pie. Fireworks. It ain't.

Still, I want to pause here to celebrate past Independence Days. Would someone light a sparkler for me, please?

Ann's Mini-vacation day Friday

I've been looking forward to this for weeks. The dentist!

I had an 8:30 AM appointment. I was out by 8:45. Yes. And with a new side to my broken tooth. I also left with an appointment for July 4 to get my teeth cleaned and a new filling. Wow.