...marked as read.
We are back from eight days in France, and I've got three kids here. No, I didn't pop one out; my daughter brought a friend with her for summer vacation.
I think my break from the Internet will last a little longer than eight days. I'll see you around!
Our Bacon
Who art in heaven
Smoked be thy Name
Thine order come
Thine will be well-done
On earth as it is
In Memphis
Give us this day our daily slab
And lead us not into vegetarianism
But deliver us more bacon
For swine is the skillet, the flavor, and the pork belly
Forever and ever
HAM-en.
A few of us made this up a while back, and I just found it on my hard drive.
I have lots of thoughts, and lots of things I ought to write down. But I don't do that. Last week I was away from home and away from the Internet, and I thought I'd write. I didn't. I read books. I stripped old wallpaper from old plaster. I talked. I drank local beer. But I didn't write.
And right now, I'm thinking about Dr. George Tiller and what his death represents. I'm thinking about the plane that fell out of the sky. I'm thinking about how politics divides people. I'm thinking about my own impatience with people and things.
I'm thinking a lot. I just can't seem to think here.
Errrmmm. *cough*
Is this thing on?
Sometimes you have a task. It's not something you have to do for work or school or whatever. It's just something you have to undertake, simply because you must.
Right now I have a task. I don't know how long it will take, nor what the final result will be.
All I know is, I'm 5000 words in.
Lately my Internet time has been spent on Twitter. In the past couple of weeks, it's mushroomed as a place for local (or hyperlocal, even) happenings, news, and community.
This morning I got locked out of my Twitter account after trying to access it, then changing my password. Twitter wants me to "chillax" (no, really, it's right there on the screen) and I'm trying. I'm really trying. Trouble is, I'm afraid I'll miss something. Ten days ago I missed an amazing community outpouring that occurred during a city council session because I was at work.
*****
Speaking of work, I'm here now. Or there now. Whatever. I'm at my place of unemployment. HA! I'm totally leaving that lapsus, because this really doesn't feel like a JOB. And that? Is awesome.
In any case, I won't get the Twitter DTs, because my workplace now has an account (which I set up, but it wasn't for my own benefit, honest) and I can get my local fix. And hey, if I remain locked out of Twitter at home, maybe I'll write in this blog more often. Maybe I'll write about how Twitter and Facebook help build communities.
Via Loulou on Facebook, I got this:
Hey, it's great that big-time websites are touting the rosé. It means that we can get past The Bane That Is White Zinfandel.
But I have to say, I was on this three years ago. See here (a reprint of a wine blogger) and here. And never mind that I was drinking rosé from my first summer in France (in 1992, holy crap), and fully embraced it every spring and summer during the time I lived there. It's just part of the warm weather rituals there.
These days I'll choose a Spanish or South American rosé over a French one, because the prices are better. My favorite local wine shop doesn't have any rosé in yet, but I've been drinking a South American Malbec rosé that I found at the liquor store down the street, and it's most delicious.
What's your favorite wine, if you drink it?
*Haha.
**Also, I have been sitting on this entry for FOUR days. The blog mojo. It is fleeting.
Earlier today I read Loulou's blog post about pasta with salmon and peas, and decided to make it. As I commented on her post, I probably wasn't going to follow her recipe, but she did inspire me.
On a weird whim, I decided to broadcast my cooking. It's been six months since I've used USTREAM, so I dusted off my login and started a broadcast. Allan helpfully posted a link to my broadcast on Twitter and elsewhere, and pretty soon I had a few viewers. Woo-hoo!
I stopped the broadcast while I was waiting for the pasta water to boil; the salmon and peas and cream were ready to go. Mari was watching, and she asked me to post a photo of the finished product. This is for you, Mari:
Because you can't go wrong with Loulou's recipe, I'll just tell you what I did differently:
Something tells me that Loulou's recipe turned out better than mine did. But! I had fun cooking, and it was tasty. And! I made a salad of romaine hearts and homemade vinaigrette.
Here's the recipe for my vinaigrette, with full props to my ex-husband, who taught me how to make it:
1 part dijon mustard
1 part vinegar (red wine, white wine, rice)
2 parts olive oil (or canola oil)
Whisk the mustard and vinegar together in a bowl until homogeneous. Add sea salt to taste, and blend. Add olive oil drop by drop, then in a thin stream, whisking the entire time (pretend you're making mayonnaise) until the oil is incorporated into the mustard/vinegar. Taste, and add more oil or vinegar if needed. Add a few grinds of pepper to taste, and mix. Drizzle onto salads, steamed vegetables, avocados, or whatever strikes your fancy.
So. Mmmm, yeah. Bon ap! Next time I broadcast my cooking, I'll storyboard it (okay, maybe not) and record it so I can post a link here.
*It's not as if I never cook. I just don't blog about it.
Writers need to read. Every writer knows it. I've been absorbing books lately. I'd say I was devouring them, but that seems like a cliché, doesn't it? It's apt, however. I'm ravenous for stories.
I'm in the middle of rereading the Austin Family Chronicles by Madeleine L'Engle, who's one of my favorite authors. I loved her Wrinkle In Time books as a teen, and was comforted by The Summer of The Great-Grandmother when I was a new mother. That sweet child of mine is now fourteen, and the Austin Family books are hers; they were a Christmas gift, and she left them here.
It's been 25 years since I've read these books, and they're still relevant. In fact, these books are 40+ years old, but it doesn't matter. Only a few things seem dated. The interactions and relationships are still fresh, but human nature doesn't change much, does it?
I remember the characters well, and I'm pleased to be spending time with them again.
Who are you spending time with these days?
The trouble with getting out of the habit of blogging is that things happen and you don't record them right away. And then three days later, that thing doesn't seem so important, or you feel like it's old news or something.
And then when the weather is fantastic — as it has been for the past four days — you'd rather do anything than sit in front of the computer (sorry, social networking!).
Put the two together and you have me. OH HAI, I was going to become a regular blogger again, wasn't I? I'm not giving up yet. My motor's just kind of like a diesel engine on a cold day. How's THAT for a crappy metaphor?
When I last blogged, I was still all high from the English Beat concert (and no, I don't mean that kind of high).
This past Thursday night, I said to Allan, "I feel fortunate to live here." We were driving back to Lexington from Berea, where we'd just seen Habib Koité and Bamada perform. Allan replied "It's amazing how much great music we've heard in the past week." And he was right. It was a banner week for Lexingtonians Who Love Music. Here's a recap of what we saw:
Friday, April 17: Ellee Ven and Big Fresh at Give Into The Groove.
Saturday, April 18: Robert Schneider, Chico Fellini, Ben Sollee, The Sundresses, and Attempt (a Trevor Tremaine creation, and I can't find a specific link for Attempt), all at CD Central for Record Store Day.
Sunday, April 19: The (English) Beat at The Dame.
Thursday, April 23: Habib Koité (link in French) and Bamada at Berea College, Berea, Kentucky.
I've got photos of all the events, but most of them are just hanging out on my hard drive. I did make a Flickr set for Record Store Day. Here's a photo I've posted of Habib Koité.
Allan was right: we've seen an amazing amount of music in the past week.
Music is a balm to my soul; it soothes this savage breast (apologies to William Congreve).
I feel fortunate to live here.
Edit: April 26 also marks the day in 2003 when I decided to stop lurking at the internet radio station I'd been listening to for four months, so I created an account and started commenting. Hoo boy, the website was waaaay different back then. But the important thing is the music. And that's six+ years of aural goodness in my life, and let's not forget that balm thing. Or that soothing thing.
Last night The Rudies opened for The (English) Beat, and during their set I sent a text message to the older of my older brothers, the one whose utter coolness, along with early MTV, helped mold my musical tastes.
Me: We are about to see the english beat. Wish you were here..
Nate: Can u save it for later?
Me: Lol. Don't think so. I just can't stop it.
Nate: Roger. It ranks right up there. Specially when im wakeling up.
Me: Every saturday when you're window shopping? By the way, have you met jeannette?
OK, so maybe he and I found it funny, and you don't or won't. But if you are a fan of the Beat, I hope you'll get a chuckle out of it.
If you looked at my Flickr stream, you'd never guess I've taken over 1000 photos in April alone. I've posted exactly 36 37 to Flickr. This weekend I've taken 350 photos. A lot of them are crap, sure. But that's a lot of photos to look through and decide what's worth processing and posting online. (Fortunately, my new camera takes both hi-res JPEG and RAW photos — the D50 took low-res JPEG + RAW — so sometimes I can use the JPEG straight out of the box.) Still, it can be overwhelming when you've taken hundreds of photos in a short amount of time, and I have two strikes against me to begin with.
First, I have a major inferiority complex about my photography. Sometimes it's hard to be married to the guy who took this photo, or this one. Sometimes we actually take the same photo without even realizing it, and I'm pretty sure his photo is better than mine (whether it is or not). Yeah, I need to get over this. I know.
Second, I'm a perfectionist, and not just in the realm of photography. Perfectionism leads to procrastination which leads to paralysis, at least in my case. If it won't be perfect, there's no point in doing it, whatever "it" is.
This has kept me from a number of creative endeavors; writing and photography come to mind. It is my hope that admitting my fear of not producing something perfect will help me get over it.
So in that spirit, here is a photo I took yesterday, with no post-processing done on it. This is Ben Sollee:
He participated in Record Store Day at our local shop, CD Central, and was just one of several very talented artists there. I will post more of my photos to the Flickr set, but not just now. I need to get ready to go see The (English) Beat at The Dame.
I'm taking my camera.
I wake in pain, like there's a skewer lodged in my sinus passage. I can't return to sleep. The cats eye me as I settle on the couch, and Jonesy-kitty ventures over to say hello. It's not even four, and the birds are already singing. I know this because the windows are open, and the wan breeze feels good on my bare legs.
There are emails to be answered, but I let them sit some more, because I'd rather just sit. I listen to the birds. The click of Jonesy's claws on the wood floor. The refrigerator noises. The train whistle.
I wonder if sleep will come.
Today's my daughter's 14th birthday. She's on her way home from a class trip to Barcelona right now, so I won't get to sing to her until tomorrow.
Last Friday, I blogged about the renaissance of AliThinks. I said the post was a placemarker, and that I hadn't drunk any coffee and didn't have time to expound. I also said I'd explain later.
It's later, and I intend to explain.
We were on our way to Pittsburgh for Easter, and that's why I didn't have time to write a proper entry. A few things happened over the weekend: Allan and I stumbled upon a Tea Party by accident. (We'd planned to go to the Strip District, but a last-minute comment from a college classmate on my Facebook status had me thinking we might be able to lunch with him on the North Side/Shore.)
We went to The Warhol with my BF from HS, Denise, and her husband David. Then the four of us went for food and drink at Fatheads on the South Side (say it with me: Sahside) of Pittsburgh.
Afterwards, D&D took their leave and A&A went to the early show at Club Cafe, which featured Brent Malin and Almost Astronauts. We'd planned to go to Club Cafe no matter what, because we love that place, and funnily enough, there was a familiar name on the program. I met Brent Malin at my alma mater in 2003. He'd been teaching in the Communication Arts department there, but was leaving to take a job in California. And I remembered him well, because I was a Com Arts major, and thought it was a shame that he was leaving. He seemed like a cool guy at the time, and that was confirmed when we spoke to him before and after his show.
Almost Astronauts put on a great show too.
We were back in our hotel room before 10 pm. Woo-hoo! The next afternoon, we went to my dad and stepmother's house for a family gathering. And that was good. I have potentially incriminating video of my nieces and nephews.
The day was overshadowed by something I'd read after we got to the hotel on Saturday night, however. Shana's plea weighed on me, and I found out late Sunday night via her blog comments and Twitter that her son Thalon had passed. The news was all the heavier because my mother died on April 12 as well. In 1993, it wasn't Easter Sunday (but Easter Monday is close enough). This agnostic lass sometimes finds the Easter symbolism too much to bear. But now I'm bringing my own stuff into it, and that was not my intention.
So while I have photos to show and more things to tell, I'm going to refrain right now. Shana posted a link to her son's obituary on her blog today. She wrote it, and it's both beautiful and heartbreaking. Tomorrow Thalon will be laid to rest. I'll be thinking of Shana and her family, and Thalon some more.
I'd heard about the Tea Party thing, because there was one in Lexington a couple of weeks ago, and the Tea Partiers were upset that our local paper didn't cover their event. I thought that the Herald-Leader probably didn't have enough reporters, seeing as how they'd just laid off a bunch of staff.
This past Saturday, Allan and I were walking around Pittsburgh's North Side Shore Side Shore, when we happened upon a Tea Party. Alan Keyes was the keynote speaker, and while we didn't stick around to hear his speech, we did get to see him dump tea (or some facsimile thereof) into the Allegheny River.
I took a few photos, which you can see here. We did hear some words from the man who organized this particular Tea Party. I didn't catch his name, but he did say that Congress passed the stimulus bill without even reading it. The crowd cheered, and I said "What about the PATRIOT Act?" No one heard me except Allan and maybe the woman with the Sarah Palin button on her hat; we were on the Roberto Clemente bridge, and the speakers were on Allegheny Landing.
And then the man said, "There are laws, laws we have to obey. Can you imagine that I had to get a permit to exercise my First Amendment rights?" The crowd cheered, and I said "Maybe because it's a question of public safety, and no one is infringing on your First Amendment rights?" He went on to say that the government was above the law. I'd say it is, because no one challenged George W. Bush's decimation of our Constitution.
I can't say I didn't understand some of the sentiments I witnessed on Saturday. I did. But most of the signs the folks were holding had me saying "Really?" à la Kyle (or Stan — I can't remember which one said it, in which episode, but it was a high-pitched, head-tilted question) from South Park.
I also can't say I'm happy about the whole stimulus thing, but I'd like to know what the opposition has in mind, and I want them to spell out how it will be better than what the Obama administration has done so far.
There's a lot of blogging to be done; I have lots to say, but first I must take a moment to mention my blog friend Shana, who lost her baby boy over the weekend. This news came to me last night just after I found out my friend Saundrah had (finally!) had her baby girl way over in Denmark.
In my joy, there is sadness.
Here's the thing: I started this blog five years ago today, at a time when my life was completely different, and I thought I was heading in a specific direction.
Well. Things change, things fall apart. And things get rebuilt.
On this blogiversary, then, I've decided that I'm going to rebuild AliThinks. It's either that or shut it down, and I don't want to do that.
This post is just a little place- and time marker. I'm largely uncaffeinated, but I have to bust this out now for reasons I'll explain later.
Happy weekend. And Happy Easter. Or Pesach.
Photo taken at the 40th Annual Beaux Arts Ball here in Lexington.
Longtime readers know that this blog ain't what it used to be. I don't write much about what I'm feeling or what I'm doing. And yeah, I'm trying to figure out how to remedy that. In a couple of days, I will have been blogging for five years. That's almost ancient in blog years.
There's a reason I no longer blog without abandon. And I really don't want to say what that reason is. To get all meta on you, the reason I no longer blog the way I used to is the reason I can't tell you the reason I no longer blog the way I used to.
Is your head spinning yet?
I miss blogging. I want to write about Facebook. I want to write about Twitter. (Although, both things have contributed to my lack of content here.) I want to write about our friend Katie's amazing novel (it's destined to be Great American Literature, people). And I want to write about the meal I just ate, and the party I attended, and that thing I saw, and that other thing. Oh, and that thing, too.
So I'm left wondering how to reclaim my blog. I miss AliThinks.
J'avance doucement et je rase
les murs de la boîte de jazz*.
*apologies to Michel Jonasz, who wrote and sang those words.
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