Horse Chestnut

Isn't it fascinating how nature repeats itself in so many forms?

I Feel Lucky

Last week I found the most bitchin' pair of sunglasses. I wasn't going to get them because they were mucho dinero and I am pobrecita. I put them down. I felt deep within me they wouldn't stay there. I put them back on and decided, YES! these are the sunglasses I want to die in. Gracias, Donatella. I feel so Fellini in them, so Onassis, so mysterious. I could be completely hungover and doggy and still look fabulous. Plus, they're almost as wide as my ass and that's a nice distraction.

Like Sgt. Pepper's, it's getting better all the time. I was shocked to receive an email from Mod*Mom informing me that I was the winner of one of her totally hot, hip and fabulous giveaways. Mod*Mom ALWAYS has the coolest links and info. Her collection of everything Mod is an archive in itself. I could barely contain my excitement at winning a JSchatz Egg Bird Feeder in any color I wanted! The only thing I've ever won in my entire life was wheel of Laughing Cow cheese so you can understand my glee.

Hole in the Wall

In the Name Of...

Castaway

Teabags

It must be my arcane knowledge of the bizarre, but I cannot stand the Lipton White Tea commercials. When the man's voice suedes, "Fresh, Young, Teabags" I shudder and laugh. All I can think of is teabagging ala John Waters in "Pecker". Not refreshing. Fresh, young, teabags... balls across the nose, anyone?(shaken, not stirred)

Lately - A Memoir

Lately,
life with you
has been
like
a nightmare.
Thanks for everything
like peeing
on the
kitchen table
tonight.
Oh, I sent you up (to bed)
butt
you had to
use the toilet.
"I need a-wiping" to which
I return by
bounding up
for doody duty
only to meet the
Oasis
on the
bathroom floor
which you
so kindly watered
with the
hand shower.
Thanks for that.
I'm sure
the floor
was refreshed.
Next time
I won't
have to scrub
as hard when I
clean.
You creep
downstairs
And in your crazy
chipmunk voice
declare
your love.
To which I
answer
not as sweetly
as you,
"Get to bed, NOW."

Spirits in the Material World

Poppies on Stewart

Super Moo

I'm super psyched because I finally ordered my very own Moo Cards and they are going to be so damn cool, I can hardly contain my excitement. I am easily distracted, impetuous, impulsive...

What a great way to give some sexy guy my card in a very legitimate way. It's all business, dude.

Spying on Ghosts

Two Days

Friday was a completely wonderful evening, strolling the streets of this little Berg and taking in some local art in a Gallery Hop sponsored by the downtown organization. Sweet. My favorite artist by far was this guy who did large paintings of sexy broads. They were punky and funky and one was downright heavenly.

Saturday was the surprise anniversary party that I had for my parents. It was mah-velous, simply perfect. Since their anniversary was at the beginning of this month, it took them by total surprise. They walked in and everyone said, "Happy Fourtieth!" And my mother said, "Who's fourty?" It was hilarious.

I drank wine, red wine and too much of it. I know I'm a lightweight and I overindulged causing a bonified two day hangover. Deathly sick is an understatement. I do not miss the party girl days of late afternoons spent dry-heaving, so sick your body won't let you sleep even though you're exhausted.

Honest to gawd, I lost half of my brain cells. It hurt and now I'm foggy and hollow. I actually cried while watching the Antiques Roadshow, various commercials and ABC programming last night. On the way to work I was thinking I didn't know what was worse, being so ultimately horny with no real cock in sight or being so hung over that being on the wagon sounds like the perfect lifestyle choice.

Friday, 11:55PM

I lounge out on the teak steamer under the pergola. Almost midnight and the sky is divided indigo. The tiny eyelash crescent moon balances. I hear the trickle of the fountain. Pavarotti echos as the wind breathlessly blusters my wild unloosened locks. I am swooning.

Domino Effect

I'm thinking about drinking.
Maybe a glass of red?
I'm not dead.
Things can always be worse.

Here's to the memory of you.

Stimulation

Working for my parents has its perks. Normally, you wouldn't think 'painting' would be a fun task, but it can be. Monday and Tuesday my brother and I helped Nana paint the cottage as part of her 'Mother's Day' present(she insisted).

When we went to the local hardware store(the ONLY place that sells paint & also the place where I made Snowflake spew his Gummies), Nana was thinking something mocha, something Haagen Daz Coffee-like. I was thinking a deeper dustier earthy tone. And then I saw it. It's called "California Dreaming". She couldn't decide. I told her if it were my house I would go with it, but the decision was hers. She has to live with it.

No shrinking violet, if she despised it, she could blame it on me(family tradition). Bro' had everything taped so I opened the can of fresh 'limon' and started rolling. It breathes. It takes on a life of it's own. Any color looks amazing against it. It is so vibrant it glows. It's a very invigorating and unexpected atmosphere.








The Clock says it's 4:20. That's funny.


Cubitec Shelving

Chair

Fishing

My brother was fishing, fishing all day. He never even came up to use the loo so I assume he peed in the scrubby brush. My mom went down to check on him because even though he's 33, he's still her baby. And I'm sure she was wondering if he was drinking beer.

He had a big pail of suckers or something and all of their heads were sticking up in the bucket. I had to see it for myself so I snuck out of the cottage and went down to the dock.

Sure enough, there sat a bucket full of fish, their heads poking up as they suffocated in the spent water. They popped up and made little 'puh' 'puh' noises as their mouths opened, quietly gasping. They were so elegant and tragic. I wished he'd throw them back but he was giving them to the neighbors. He said they were 'problem' fish anyway.

Just then he hooked something huge and ordered me to grab the net. Another big ass nuisance, a carp or a Dogfish. One more for the hillbillies next door. I wondered what the hell they were going to do with them. I just wanted him to let them go.

Or at the very least, give them some fresh water in the pail as a gift before dying.

Crime Scene

Tightly packed in Snowflake's mouth


I thought I could pacify him at the paint store


Instead, I forced a melee in the parking lot.

Royal Slime-ness

Yo, it's good to be the king.


And on occasion, I crossdress as a pit-bull.

The Thought Counts

He has good intentions.

"Mamma! I'm going to make you muffins AND pancakes for Mudder's Day!" he says like a Polish from the old country.

I wonder though. This from a boy who can't even wipe his @*!, let alone pull his own pants up. At least the aspiration is there. I love that little hooligan.

Happy Day

Strange Fruit

Yesterday Char-lita and Big Jim called and asked if Snowflake and I would drop them off at the local airport. They came bombing into the office in typical Northern Midwestern Gambling Junket Finery: my dad wearing his red University of Wisconsin t-shirt, khaki elastic waist shorts(thank goodness he didn't tuck his shirt in which would have shown off his epiliptical/cigar/bomber hardroll shaped physique), buff colored Florsheim loafers and white socks that rested just at his shins.

My mother had on black stone-washed and cuffed crop jeans and a black tank top. What Angelica Huston is to a tall cool drink of water, my mother is to a kick-ass maragarita on the rocks. She had her strawberry blondish hair pulled up on top of her head and then ponytailed with an elastic at the nape of her neck. She had on a black leather belt with gold grommets that matched a cool black gold studded purse. Jersey chic.

They were headed to Atlantic City, maybe New York for a few days. They were chomping at the bit to get going so off we went, Char-lita as my co-pilot. They checked in and thought they'd get a bite at "Wings" the airport restaurant. Big Jim is a man who likes a good steak so I was shocked when they both ordered filets and shrimp. Snowflake and I would share a fruit plate.

Fifteen minutes later, you could smell the seashore/someone's rotting crotch before the aroma parked permanently on the tabletop. Three orangish quarter sized shriveled crustaceans arrived alongside a grizzeled grey chunk of meat. The fruit plate consisted of red and green grapes, vintage January 2007, two strawberries, a third of a banana and a raunchy piece of cantaloupe. A strange but sweet cloudy specimen-like yellow sauce the consistency of pancake syrup accompanied the melange.

As we said our goodbyes amongst the barely touched plates, I wondered what adventures lay ahead for the jetsetters and for Snowflake and myself as we went our separate ways, hungry.

Easy Rider

Water Closet

The Tiny Bathroom Downstairs


Ceiling Detail


Completed in February 2004


Pay to Poop