I Dig My Yard!

No, seriously: I am digging my yard. The previous owners left a stunted jumble of grass, mis-matched stepping stones, river rock, shale rock, a mold-covered wood pile, wood chips mixed into the grass and shale, and the whole shee-bang was rimmed with railroad ties. Oh, and 3-3' strange metal poles cemented into the ground.

Thanks to the miracles of a Craig's List posting, total strangers came to grab all the railroad ties and river rock their grubby little trucks could carry. It is amazing what people will do when you put the word "free" in front of Crap. It was sooo easy*, I got lulled into thinking this whole re-landscaping project would be easy. Ha!

One of the exciting things I've discovered: the bed of shale rock/wood chips is supported by old miscellaneous stones sunken in mud. Who knows what else lurks beneath the bedraggled surface of my yard? It's an adventure! A really hot, sweaty, muddy, groady, blister-making adventure.

*But occasionally annoying. I received more than 300 phone calls in a week and a half--it's a good thing I specified calling hours (9am-9pm), otherwise WHO KNOWS what ungodly hours I would have heard the phone ring.

You Have Been Listening To...

...The sound of one hand clapping. In a forest. With chickens. Or eggs (we're not really sure which).

Pausa e fini, certo.

La Recipe Du Jour

How To Cook A Conductor*

INGREDIENTS

1 large conductor, or two small assistant conductors
Ketchup
Crisco or other solid vegetable shortening (lard may be used)
26 large garlic cloves
1 cask cheap wine
1 lb. alfalfa sprouts
2 lbs. assorted yuppie food, such as tofu or yogurt
1 abused orchestra

First, catch a conductor. Remove tail and horns. Carefully separate the large ego and reserve for sauce. Remove any batons, pencils (on permanent loan from the Principal Second Violin), long articulations and discard. Remove the hearing aid and discard (it's useless as it never really worked anyway).

Examine your conductor carefully - many of them are mostly large intestine. If you have such a conductor, you will have to discard it and catch another. Clean the conductor as you would a squid, but do not separate the tentacles from the body. If you have an older conductor, such as one from a major symphony orchestra or summer music festival, you may wish to tenderize by pounding the conductor on a rock with timpani mallets or by smashing the conductor between two large cymbals.

Next, pour 1/2 of the cask of wine into a bath tub and soak the conductor in the wine for at least 12 hours (Exceptions: British, German and some Canadian Conductors have a natural beery taste which some people like and the wine might not marry well with this flavor. Use your judgment.)

When the conductor is sufficiently marinated, rub conductor all over with the garlic. Then cover your conductor with the Crisco using vague, slow circular motions. Take care to cover every inch of the conductor's body with the shortening. If this looks like fun, you can cover yourself with Crisco too, removing clothes first.

Next, take your orchestra and put as much music out as the stands will hold without falling over, and make sure that there are lots of really loud passages for everyone: big loud chords for the winds and brass, and lots and lots of tremolos for the strings. (Bruckner might be appropriate). Rehearse these passages several times, making certain that the brass and winds are always playing as loud as they can and the strings are tremolo-ing at their highest speed. This should ensure adequate heat for cooking your conductor. If not, insist on taking every repeat and be sure to add the second repeats in really large symphonies. Ideally, you should choose your repertoire to have as many repeats as possible, but if you have a piece with no repeats in it at all, just add some, claiming that you have seen the original, and there was an ink blot there that looked like a repeat to you and had obviously been missed by every other fool who had looked at this score. If taking all the repeats does not generate sufficient heat, burn the complete set of score and parts to all of the Bruckner symphonies which should do the trick.

When the heat has died down to that of a medium inferno, place your conductor on top of your orchestra (they won't mind as they are used to it) until it is well tanned, the hair turns back to its natural color and all of the fat has dripped out. Be careful not to overcook or your conductor could end up tasting like stuffed ham.

Make a sauce by combining ego, sprouts, and ketchup to taste, placing it all in the blender and pureeing until smooth. If the ego is bitter, sweeten with honey to taste. Slice your conductor as you would any turkey. Serve accompanied by the assorted yuppie food and the remaining wine with the sauce on the side.

WARNING: Due to environmental toxins present in conductor feeding areas, such as heavy metals, oily residue from intensive PR machinery manufacture, and extraordinarily high concentrations of E.coli, cryptosporidium, and other hazardous organisms associated with animal wastes, the Departments for conductor Decimation (DCD) recommend that the consumption of conductors be limited to one per season. Overconsumption of conductors has been implicated in the epidemiology of a virulent condition known as "Bataan fever." Symptoms of this disorder include swelling of the brain, spasms in the extremities, auditory hallucinations, excessive longevity, and delusions of competence.

*Copied from Sounds & Fury.

Sexy 6

Today is the sixth commemoration of the date upon which Hubbers and I were Eternally United.

So far, so good.

NPR Song of the Day

Among NPR's many wonders is the Song of the Day. Today's selection is remake of Tom Waits' Day After Tomorrow (I wasn't familiar--listening-wise--with Waits' style or substance), whose simple melody beautifully serves the poignant lines of a (any) young soldier. The lyrics haunt me, particularly in light of my own brother's experiences as a soldier in Iraq and Kosovo. Here they are (but will be immediately removed, if requested by copyright holder):

I got your letter today
And I miss you all so much, here
I can't wait to see you all
And I'm counting the days, dear
I still believe that there's gold
At the end of the world
And I'll come home
To Illinois
On the day after tomorrow

It is so hard
And it's cold here
And I'm tired of taking orders
And I miss old Rockford town
Up by the Wisconsin border
But I miss you won't believe
Shoveling snow and raking leaves
And my plane will touch tomorrow
On the day after tomorrow

I close my eyes
Every night
And I dream that I can hold you
They fill us full of lies
Everyone buys
About what it means to be a soldier
I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel
About all the blood that's been spilled
Look out on the street
Get me back home
On the day after tomorrow

You can't deny
The other side
Don't want to die
Any more than we do
What I'm trying to say,
Is don't they pray
To the same God that we do?
Tell me, how does God choose?
Whose prayers does he refuse?
Who turns the wheel?
And who throws the dice
On the day after tomorrow?

Mmmmmmm...
I'm not fighting
For justice
I am not fighting
For freedom
I am fighting
For my life
And another day
In the world here
I just do what I've been told
You're just the gravel on the road
And the one's that are lucky
One's come home
On the day after tomorrow

And the summer
It too will fade
And with it comes the winter's frost, dear
And I know we too are made
Of all the things that we have lost here
I'll be twenty-one today
I've been saving all my pay
And my plane will touch down
On the day after tomorrow

First Thursday People

Wanting to feel cosmopolitan, I made the jaunt into town last evening to attend First Thursday, the monthly unveiling of new art works at area dealers. There was some lovely and playful stuff, particularly at the Augen and Froelick Galleries. One of the most arresting pieces was at the Elizabeth Leach: a pair of gigantic (12') banners with the image of a nuclear smoke-stack traced from composite pictures of fiery clouds; not that I would want that in my house, but as a social statement the piece definitely worked. There was also some crap, including Jeremy Iverson's "collection" of grey-scale collages...WHICH WERE ALL THE SAME!!!

But even more inspiring than the art itself were those who thronged out to see and be seen. Oh, of course there were Bluehairs a-plenty, smacking their gums each time they bent over their half-inch thick lenses to read the title plates, smilingly winding their rubber-wheeled walkers through the crowds. Then there were the Prettypeople: severely skinny women dressed Too-Cool-For-School in short-skirted beachy-bohemian dresses as brightly colored as the art around them, the men in white alligator shoes and black cashmere socks who refused to take off their $$$unglasses indoors. And then there were the Art-isans themselves: a man dressed in cropped pants made from an old canvas sail, tied with sailor's knots and topped off with yellow high-heeled sandals; a woman in a paper-mache dress with a large pink peony in her hair; a chubby dude discussing surrealism on the streetcorner, the several braids of his purpley-blue hair strung up through the top of a doll's head. These are people for whom "art" is not a thing, but a way to interact with the world.

But somehow, they just make me laugh.

Hmmm....

Read. Discuss.

Fuzzy Math

Isn't this kind of math just as comforting as a new puppy?
From Salon.com's War Room blogger Tim Grieve:

Asked today about a new Congressional Budget Office report that puts the price tag of the war on Iraq at more than $1 trillion, White House Press Secretary Tony Snow said: "Well, if you take a look at what happened on September 11th, 2001, it's estimated that the aftershocks of that could have cost up to $1 trillion."

As the Boston Globe notes today, former Bush budget advisor Lawrence Lindsey was fired back in 2003 after he suggested that the war in Iraq might cost as much as $200 billion.

Followed up by a good comment from a Salon reader:

"A" has nothing to do with "B", just as the cost of the war in Iraq has absolutely nothing to do with the price tag attached to the 9/11 attacks. Write this on a White House blackboard 100 times, Mr. Snow: "IRAQ HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE 9/11 ATTACKS!"

Incredible. This from an administration that keeps lobbing the claim that Democrats will raise taxes and increase spending.