What's the biggest dandelion you ever saw?

Want it?

It's nice. We just don't use it and would rather have back the space it takes up.

Before I put it on the sidewalk with a sign that says "Free," I thought I'd let you guys know that it's free to the first interested party who leaves a comment and can come get it.

*Princess lamp not included.

McDonald's, my dad's record collection, and me.

You know that old band from the 70s called Focus? My dad turned me on to their song, "Hocus Pocus," the one with all of that stoned-out yodeling, wild guitar, and flute on their "Live at the Rainbow" album way back when I was a kid. Led by the multi-talented Thijs Van Leer with the awesome Jan Akkerman on guitar, that eight-minutes of absolute mania never failed to knock my socks off. I was probably in my early teens when my dad introduced me to bands like Weather Report, Yes, and Focus from his collection of vinyl records. Previously obsessed with the heavy metal fare of the times (Dokken, Motley Crue, Ratt, etc.), this new-to-me aural discovery did lots to teach me to keep my ears open to the rest of the weird and wonderful out there in the music world.

Now, a good twenty-five years later, imagine my surprise to hear "Hocus Pocus" playing on my TV this morning. The bigger shock is that I heard it in a new McDonald's commercial featuring Line Rider game. I can't find a good clip of the ad on YouTube, otherwise I'd share it here.

Anyway, thanks to McDonald's I was inspired to buy the song on iTunes today. You might like to do the same. It's a really great song. And a great memory for me.

Not Ready To Make Nice...At The Opera

NPR makes a connection between our Dixie Chicks and an opera from 1834 called Maria Stuarda.

Click here for the scoop.

At the risk of having my blogger keys taken away...

...I've never watched Lost and I probably never will.

Actually, I hear the women don't want us men there anyway.

Click it for maximum readability.

Honeysuckle

My first taste of honeysuckle was as a kid on my grandparents' farm in Hartsville, TN. I recently came across more on a walk on the Greenway by my home. I let my kiddos try some. One liked it and the other wasn't about to put her mouth on some plant. I tried a taste myself and couldn't believe how minuscule the drop of honey was. When I was little, I swear there was so much more of it there to taste.

I guess they just don't make honeysuckle like they used to.

I'm calling this the quote of the day.

From And I Am Not Lying: “Like most white guys that work in the tech industry, I’ve never won a fight. Unless you count flame-wars on Digg as fights, but everyone loses those just for being there in the first place.”

MobLogic talks with prosecutor David McDade about convicted murderer David Crowe and his clemency.

Caption This.

My friend Leesa took this.



I'm remembering the end of Braveheart. "Freedom!"

Sunbright, TN

As photographed by flickr user thefog52.

Aria: Italian for "air."

After reading a wonderful post on opera by Donald Laub at the New York Public Library blog, I borrowed a few of his faves from my own Hermitage Public Library. It's been an absolute joy to listen to this beautiful music this week. Some opera goes way over my head and I have no problem with that at all. The stories are unknown to me and I really don't care for the more bombastic pieces. And the male singers don't move me in the least.

What I do like, what does capture me in the best of ways, is the aria. The word itself is Italian for "air." I like that. It's during the pleasure of listening to a soft and beautiful aria that I feel somewhat light as air. The singers pictured above are: Anna Netrebko, Deborah Voigt, Cecilia Bartoli, Karita Mattila, Angela Gheorghiu, and Renee Fleming.

Yesterday I was listening to Karita Matilla when my daughter Ari asked me what I was listening to. I told her and she lit up upon hearing the word "aria." "That's like my name," she exclaimed cheerfully. Indeed, it is. And my life is filled with beauty.

Wherein I explain the brand new, made-up word, "gall-blogger."

A blogger friend made mention of her gallbladder the other day and for some reason the non-word "gall-blogger" came to mind. Looking for a reason to justify its existence, I offer the following:

I offered to my lovely wife today that she could buy me one of two possible gifts for Father's Day this year. I suggested that either an iPod docking station alarm clock or an external hard drive for the laptop would be a perfectly useful and wonderful gift from her to me.

Now there's nothing wrong with this at all, except for the sad fact that for this year's Mother's Day all the poor woman received from yours truly was a card. This is where I imagine some of you are saying, "Can you imagine the gall of this blogger?"

To be fair, that external hard drive really would be a gift for us though.

On Scooters

The Wall Street Journal has a nice piece about the very fuel efficient mode of transport known as the scooter.

Born to Be ... Fuel Efficient

Also, visit SCOOTRAK: affordable GPS tracking for your vehicle

Play

Bonnaroo 2002, Thursday at Two

Highlights from 2002's Bonnaroo will stream Thursday, May 22nd at 2:00 CST.

AT&T Blue Room has got you covered.

One day, I'm gonna podcast this stuff.

A year or so ago, my wife and I were thinking of starting our own podcast. I listen to several and I think she might like one or two as well. We got as far as buying a cheap microphone and downloading some appropriate software, but everthe caveman, I couldn't figure out the simple software and we never really got going. It's probably just as well as we never really figured out what we wanted our podcast to be about in the first place.

Anyway, one of my fave podcasts is one called Blarm! and it is hosted by a lovely lady who goes by the name of Wankergirl. (I'm pretty sure she answers to Dana as well.) Some good news from her tonight is that she recently wrote a short piece for an alt-weekly in the St. Johns area called The Scope. Like so many of us would like to be, she is now a published author. (Yay, Dana!) The subject of her piece? How to start your own podcast.

Maybe one day, Paige and I will think of something cool, informative, or funny to talk about and we'll become filthy, rich podcasters like my heroes, Dawn and Drew. Until then, I'll continue on with this blog and keep listening to those tech savvy folks with their microphones on.

Just Looking For A Hit

Sasha Frere-Jones worries that there is no awesome summer pop song waiting for us this year. He's concerned that there is nothing poised to reign at the top of Top 40 radio playlists that Top 40 fans can embrace and non-Top 40 music listeners can call their guilty pleasure. He asks, "Where are the singles? Where is ‘Crazy In Love’? Where is ‘Since U Been Gone’? Where is ‘Hey Ya’?”

Another excerpt:

Pop songs should be happy, and proliferating like liberated little algae. Are we all hanging on Usher’s abs? Chris Martin’s stubble? Dwayne Carter’s, um, chains? The Jonas Brothers? (Why did we take Hanson for granted?) Where is the song that can slow down time and make us like the fact that Top 40 plays the same hits over and over?

It's my opinion that "Clumsy" by Fergie, had it not been released way back in September of 2007, would have been that perfect breezy summer hit. I only discovered it a few months ago (terrific video!) and it's hardly left my mind's library of hummable tunes since.

At The Dam

Solace and solitude at the foot of the dam.

On my way back home to my family yesterday, after watching a wonderful performance of The Underpants at TPAC, I stole a few extra minutes for myself by stopping at the dam. Out of the car and standing beside it, everything was beautiful.

With purpose, every detail was noticed and appreciated. From the birds soaring above, to the joggers running up the hill, to the sun setting just over the trees to my right, my mindful awareness of good things allowed for relaxed contentment.

Don't mind me. Just sharing a moment.

"Roll That Stone"

As seen on Rocketboom, enjoy The Phoneheads.

"The Revolution Will Not Be Televised."

Right now, Gil Scott Heron is singing on KCRW. Saturday night is sounding all funky and cool.

All right.

Friday Night at Greer Stadium

We went out see our Nashville Sounds play tonight. Whether or not they won, I really can't say. It was all about some much enjoyed (and all too rare) time with my family.

Go Sounds!

For some, a term of endearment is simply that.

I read today where Obama has caught some flack for his use of the word "sweetie" when speaking with a female reporter. According to the story, it's much ado about nothing. She wasn't offended, and he was proactive in apologizing to her just in case. However, it's made news anyway and folks are making lots of noise over whether or not Barack Obama is a sexist pig.

Well, here's my noise: I call my wife "sweetie" much more often than I refer to her by her name. I'm not sure, but I think she calls me the same. I don't even notice anymore. My two youngest kids call each other "sweetie" pretty often and my heart melts a bit whenever I hear that. There's nothing condescending or sexist about the way we use the word; it's just a habit that we have.

Of course, the difference is that we are all intimate here and no one's going to be offended. When I'm at work, I don't use it because one just never knows how it's going to be received. We must always be mindful of others and how they might interpret our words and actions. A mindful phrase we use at work is, "Perception is reality." Literally speaking, I don't agree with that, but I get its meaning and it's a smart way to go about dealing with others.

Anyway, my point is that I use the word in kindness so much around the house that I could easily see myself forgetting my rules and using it at work simply out of habit. It could happen. I once almost ended a phone call with a boss of mine by telling her that I love her. It's how I always end phone calls with my wife and I remember the time it tried to slip out simply by habit with my boss. (Yikes!)

And that's all it was with Obama. It was both nice and wise of him to apologize to her before anyone had made any kind of deal out of it. He simply realized that his habit got the best of him and he did the courteous thing. It turns out that the reporter had hardly noticed the "sweetie" and was only concerned about getting her question for her story answered. That's how it goes though. Never mind the serious questions asked of the political candidate; we can just obsess over the use of a word as innocuous as "sweetie."

After The Tornado

I was looking through my flickr shots tonight and came across this one of my daughter. I took it after the tornado ripped through Hartsville back in February. My grandfather's farm was hit pretty hard, but thankfully the destruction was limited to property. Some farm buildings were leveled and he had some window and roof damage to his house.

Anyway, I like this picture of Ari and thought I'd share it here.

Mon amis, consider me a global blogger now.

With help from Google Translate, this blog now easily translates to over twenty different languages. Just click the drop down menu on the right sidebar and, voilà, it's French! As my Finnish friend can attest, however, Google Translate doesn't always get it exactly right, a fact which has made for some pretty comical emails in the past.

Anyway, here's my most recent post...en français.

J'ai fait l'erreur de prise en charge trois grands livres à la bibliothèque hier. Je ne suis pas un lecteur rapide et je n'ai pas beaucoup de temps pour la lecture de toute façon. En attente pour moi sur la demande plateau ont été Richard Price "Lush Life" (464 pages), Junot Diaz "The Wondrous Brève vie d'Oscar Wao" (352 pages) et "Grands Travaux à court de Dostoïevski" (768 pages). Il n'ya pas de façon je vais lire toutes les pages en trois semaines.

Je ne l'ai ouvert au hasard Dostoïevski à quelque part au milieu de "Notes from Underground" tout sur ma pause hier soir et me suis retrouvé profondément fasciné avec le narrateur de coupe la parole à une femme du nom de Lisa. Au lieu de rentrer au début, je viens tenu de cette lecture aléatoire place. Peut-être que ce n'était pas l'intention de Dostoïevski, mais je suis en train de lire "Notes from Underground" dans le cadre mystère. Ce qui est Lisa? Qu'est-ce que c'est elle qu'il est de son enseignement si durement? Comment at-il rencontrer? Quoi de sa fixation avec elle? Il est probable que je serai de se coucher tard ce soir pour la terminer, et puis de nouveau à partir de la page et une lecture à l'endroit où je hasard a commencé avant. À l'instar de Dostoïevski selon les directives de Tarantino, il vous tous ensemble dans le temps.

Mais assez parlé des livres. Je suis chez moi avec les enfants aujourd'hui et il est temps de construire un fort oreiller. Il est temps parce qu'ils disent que c'est. Sonne bien pour moi.

Three big books borrowed, and their due dates are daunting.

I made the mistake of picking up three big books at the library yesterday. I'm not a fast reader and I don't have lots of time for reading anyway. Waiting for me on the request shelf were Richard Price's "Lush Life" (464 pages), Junot Diaz's "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" (352 pages), and "Great Short Works of Dostoevsky" (768 pages). There's no way I will read all of those pages in three weeks.

I did open Dostoevsky randomly to somewhere in the middle of "Notes from Underground" while on my break last night and found myself deeply enthralled with the narrator's cutting speech to a woman named Lisa. Instead of going back to the beginning, I just kept reading from that random spot. Maybe it wasn't Dostoevsky's intention, but I am now reading "Notes from Underground" as part mystery. Who is this Lisa? What is it she does that he's lecturing her so harshly about? How did he meet her? What's his fixation with her? It's likely that I'll be staying up late tonight to finish it, and then starting it again from page one and reading it to where I randomly began before. Like Dostoevsky as directed by Tarantino, it'll all come together in time.

But enough about books. I'm home with the kids today and it's time to build a pillow fort. It's time because they say it is. Sounds good to me.

Spider in the Machine

I just came back from the kitchen to find a small spider crawling around on the laptop keyboard. I tried to get him but he disappeared somewhere beneath the keys.

The question is this: Should I tell my wife about this now or let her find out when she reads this post?

[Edit to add: It actually came back out seconds later and I got it. Just having some fun with the above question.]

[Edit to add more: Oops. I really thought she would check this from work. It seems that I didn't take into consideration that she might have time to actually get online at home this morning. Sorry, babe. ;)]

Beziats in the news: American barbecue has French ambassador

By Cheryl Arvidson

Special to The Commercial Appeal
Tuesday, May 13, 2008

LAUZERTE, France -- In this picturesque and historic village in Southwest France, Rene Beziat is a man on a mission. He is determined to introduce his countrymen to the joys of American-style barbecue, one festival at a time.

This is no small task. The French take second place to no one when it comes to food, with an abundance of locally grown produce and meats and cheeses to die for. They have a strong tie to tradition when it comes to what food they like and how they like it prepared.

"You cannot tell a Frenchman what to eat," Beziat observes.

When it comes to meat, the French may say they "barbecue," but that really means they cook sausages and steak on a standard grill. The idea of smoked meat is a concept that does not really register with the average Frenchman -- at least not yet. (Click for the rest of the article.)

Exercise with Dad.

They say, "Let's go walk on the Greenway."

They mean, "Carry us as you walk on the Greenway."

On a Prince kick.

Listened to "Sign O' The Times" on the way to work and on break. (Would its concert DVD please release eventually?)

Played "Lovesexy" on the way home and in my living room.

Right about now, I really wish I still owned "The Black Album."

hello

Bathtime in Clerkenwell

Bringing me out of this here funk...

Pulled up Pandora to look for some Serge, but upon opening, the site, knowing me, played "'Till The Money Runs Out" by Tom Waits. I haven't heard that song in months.

As good as a song is when it's all queued up on purpose by its fan, it's all the more sensational when it comes out of those little speakers by complete surprise. I'll look for Serge, that mischievous Frenchman, later. Tom plays now. I reflect and force a smile.

At Sean Bell Protest, Journalist Willfully Arrested

Garrett Parris

My friend Corey has been listening to a great local country & western (emphasis on western) artist named Garrett Parris lately. He played me a few songs by him the other night and I really liked what I heard. Lots of interesting and clever wordplay with a lot of heart and beauty. He let me borrow the CD a few days back and I still haven't found (or made?) the time to sit back and enjoy it from start to finish.

You know how it is. Long hours at work, getting home late, getting up early with a feverish kiddo, etc. I'll try to listen to it in its entirety soon. Meanwhile, go to Corey's site and watch a video of Garrett performing at Corey's Kentucky Derby Party. It's good stuff.

Trying to Wind Down with "Up" Albums

1. Tom Waits - Alice
2. Tom Waits - Blood Money
3. Gogol Bordello - Super Taranta!
4. Fergie - The Dutchess

Work wore my body out tonight. Some nights I stand around hoping that someone, anyone, will require me to do some work. I hardly had time to breathe tonight. No complaints there, but I'm still wide awake at 2 AM as a result of all that hustle and bustle.

I thought I'd wind down to some tunes once I got home, but the choices on my iPod just got more Up and Up. I should have put on Coltrane. Instead I started with the somber beauty of Tom Waits' Alice, but I just went more pop with each album selection. Oh well, the good news is that the kids are healthy and off to school in the morning. After getting up and helping get them ready for their day, it's back to bed until the crack of noon for me.

It's day 3 of an eight day stretch. My next day off is next Thursday and if all goes as requested I'll have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off as well. There's a Sounds game to attend on Friday night and a presentation of Steve Martin's The Underpants at TPAC's Polk Theatre the following night for me. Anyone going to either?

They're CRAZY about flowers.

Recent post inspired by this:

DVDs waiting for me at the library:

David Lynch's Inland Empire

The Machinist

This 3-Minute Pundit Speaks on Party Unity

I don't buy what people are saying about the divisiveness in the Democratic Party. There's been so much talk about Clinton supporters who won't vote for Obama if he gets the nomination. Some even say that they'll vote for McCain if they can't vote for Hillary. Whatever.

After the 2000 and 2004 losses, I heard many folks talk disgustedly about moving to Canada. Didn't happen. There's a lot of emotion in statements like these, but I don't worry about a bunch of fellow Democrats getting all Canuck on me. Surely I can't imagine, after some time has passed between the upcoming Democratic nomination and the general election, that most Democrats who currently support Hillary won't be casting their vote for Obama. (Or Obama supporters voting for Hillary, for that matter.)

After a few weeks of grumbling, and letting it sink in that the losing campaign is actively endorsing the victor, the bad feelings will pass and the party will be united again. That's my take on it anyway.

Ducks in the pool!

My daughter isn't quite sure what to make of this. On one hand, it's cool to see ducks in the pool. On the other hand, she'd rather not share her pool with animals.


Two ducks happily relaxing, resting assured that no pesky turtles will be biting at their duck feet in this watering hole.


Doin' the duck flap.


Waiting for the starting gun.


Duck #1: Would you stop with the bubble noises?
Duck #2: Sorry.


Pool break over. Time to get back to the pond.

Celinda Pink, Victimized

In 1993, at the record store, my coworkers and I fell in love with the music of a local blues singer by the name of Celinda Pink. A year or so went by and her career never really took off the way we felt she deserved. There was talk of too much drinking on her part, but I don't know if we ever really knew for sure why the big local buzz about her didn't seem to go beyond just buzz. We sure did sell a lot of her Victimized CD just by playing it in the store and she made the Billboard charts in both Blues and Country, but there was just one quiet followup CD a couple of years later and that was the last we heard from her.

Fast forward to tonight. I hadn't thought of Celinda Pink in a decade or more but my weird little brain that can't recall where I put the car keys five minutes ago all of a sudden brought her name front and center. I'm not sure what sparked my memory of her. One minute I was looking at John Hiatt and Little Village videos on YouTube, and then I found myself looking for the Web presence of one Celinda Pink.

Sadly, there's not much out there. I did, however, find a story on her in a Jacksonville, Florida paper. Alcohol, it turns out, was the major problem when she was best positioned for big fame. She lost her studio and management deal and pretty much gave it up. Now (well, the story dates back to April '07), she's waitressing in Jacksonville and playing when and where she can.

I hope she's doing well.. If we make the move to Florida this summer, I'll do my best to catch a live performance by Miss Celinda Pink. If you ever see her CD in a used record shop or find her name on the door of a club somewhere, please do yourself a favor and hear what she's got to share. I'm glad I remembered her name tonight.

M.I.A. plays Nashville tonight at City Hall.

I just can't justify the $31 to make tonight's show. Go if you can. M.I.A.'s Kala is the most infectiously interesting CD I own. Hard to say how the music on disc translates to music on stage, but I might have to spend money better spent on groceries just to see for myself.

Anyone going? Anyone got a free (or cheap) ticket?

Music news! Music news! What a great day for fans of music!

• The aforementioned Tom Waits tour. (Already wondering who I know in Knoxville who would let me crash on a couch should I be able to make that road trip.)
• A new Nine Inch Nails album release today. It's called The Slip. It's a free download. It's here.
• Prince is writing a book entitled 21 Nights. The guarantee of its worth is in the accompanying CD of live performances.
  

Brilliant Beyond Belief

It's called the Glitter and Doom tour.

Tom Waits, announcing his upcoming tour, raises the bar on how to announce upcoming tours.

Look to the night sky, see the "PEHDTSCKJMBA" and follow the stars. Knoxville's Civic Theatre is in there. Do you see it? The saving for tickets starts now.

Visit TomWaits.com for all that you need. List of stops here.

Status Report: Good Times Here

It's Saturday morning, the sun is up, and the ducks walk on our porch as we play Caitlin Rose on the stereo.

On elevators.

It's funny to me how some articles seem to really grab people's attention. I was thumbing through a copy of The New Yorker recently when I came across a piece entitled Up and Then Down: The Lives of Elevators by Nick Paumgarten. Only because I work in a hotel (always going up and then down) did I think it might be of minor interest to me.

The piece opens and closes with the story of a man who found himself trapped in an elevator for forty-one hours. While that is quite the attention grabber, most of the article is about the history and technology of elevators. Not necessarily fascinating stuff, but in the week or so since the issue came out, I've seen many bloggers writing about it. (It really is a fascinating read.) Of course, the very-dedicated-to-all-things The New Yorker, Emdashes, wrote about it, but people who rarely if ever write about the magazine are writing about that story. Maybe elevators captivate us more than I suspect. (Just, hopefully, not for forty-one hours at a time.)

Anyway, if you haven't read it yet, please do. It really is pretty amazing. What's really making the rounds on the Internet is the time-elapsed video of Nicholas White, the man who was trapped for the better part of two days in the elevator. I'm transfixed watching it. Four frames: three empty elevators and his, documenting his every move. Click here to watch the video.

Of course, the Web being the Web, there is now a very funny parody video of the above.

How high are your socks?

In a recent edition of his wonderful column, USA Today's Craig Wilson said the following:

"I've followed my mother's advice: Always have younger friends. They'll look after you later on."

I thought of that the other night while I was at work. I'm not the oldest employee at the hotel but at the relatively advanced age of thirty-eight I'm far from the youngest. One of the young whippersnappers (only 23!) was standing next to me that night and remarked on the poor fashion sense of a man who was heading outside for a quick jog. I answered her words with silence as I was perplexed at the phantom faux-pas.

Finally I asked her what the supposed offense was. "Look at his socks," she replied.

"His socks? What's wrong with his socks?"

"They're tube socks," she said. Apparently, it should have been obvious. She might as well have said, "Duh!"

Well, I'm guilty. When I run, I wear my tube socks. I'm wearing some right now. That's what we wore in gym class way back in the 80s and if they were good enough then, they must be good enough now. Right?

I guess not.

There was denial for a bit. Maybe my friend was mistaken or just speaking for a small segment of today's youth. Surely I could quiz a few passersby and find my way of doing things to be validated.

One coworker, then another and still another heard my query and aged me more with each answer. I found no one who would run in anything taller than ankle socks. Some were even sure that I was just joking about my tube socks. "Who wears those anymore?," one friend laughed.

Am I that old-school? At least I don't have little green stripes at the top of them.

Fine. The kids win. I guess the cool people of 2008 wear ankle socks. Now it's decision time for me. Do I change my aging ways and buy a new pack of socks or do I just stubbornly stick with what I know and pull those tube socks as close to my knees as they will stretch?

When it comes to working along with my younger friends, the ones who will "look after" me, I think I'll go for the comedic mileage of sticking with my tall, tall socks when I run.

Tom Waits hitting the road again.

Details Monday. ;)

Stimulus

The stimulus check is here. Finally I get to limp the car to the nearest car care professionals to see what its deal is. What I'd really like to do is forget about that old 1992 station wagon with over 180,000 miles on it and just get a scooter. Up to 90 m.p.g. sounds quite nice given today's climate of gas prices.

Of course, today's pouring rain reminds me that it's nice to have a roof when driving sometimes, too.

My heart often resides at the Hotel Chelsea.

I'm reading a pretty good book right now. It's Legends of the Chelsea Hotel by Ed Hamilton. One day I'll find that letter to my dad from then Hotel Chelsea manager Stanley Bard that is in storage somewhere and I'll post it here. It was simply a letter confirming a reservation for our visit, nothing more special than that. In this day of extreme automation and confirmation numbers, however, it reads like a warm and thoughtful handshake, so personal and so interested in the human connection. He even mentioned me in the letter, typing something to the effect of, "I hope you and your son have a nice stay here."

Meanwhile, today's drama at the Hotel Chelsea continues. In short, Stanley Bard was forced out by the board in June, 2007. BD Management replaced him much to the protest of residents and loyalists. Just this week, BD was fired for "willful misconduct." What's next will undoubtedly be documented at Ed Hamilton's fantastic blog, Living with Legends: Hotel Chelsea Blog.

Partner Monica?

From the South Manchester Reporter:

"With the pitter-patter of tiny dancing feet soon to be heard at Chez Bez, he and partner Monica are so content with life in suburbia that they recently agreed to appear on television’s reincarnated celebration of cosy 1970’s matrimony, Mr & Mrs."

Blogging about my wife's mistake when I should be doing the dishes.*

Great news! My wife threw my underpants in the trash, but thankfully I pulled them out and plan on using them soon.

No, not my underpants. My Underpants. As in, my ticket to see Steve Martin's adaptation of an old play entitled The Underpants. As I lifted the garbage sack up and was about to tie it and take it out to the dumpster the other night, I glanced downward and saw the envelope addressed to me pressed against the thinly stretched white plastic. My wife told me later that when she looked at it, she thought it was just a mailer soliciting a subscription or something. Nope. It's the ticket I was expecting for the play I like by the writer I love. Thank goodness I noticed it.

*Then again, maybe she threw it away on purpose because I'm the kind of guy who sits here and publicly blogs about her when I should be doing the dishes?

Kate say...

The best thing I read all day.

Blogging against disablism.