Testical Seizure

If anyone ever messes with you, a good ol' testical seizure is a sure fire way to deal with the incident. Don't ask me how I know.

If you want to test out my theory, go down to the Burlington City Library and try to give those librarians some lip. You will get more than you bargained for.

Meet Marcel Marceau

Marcel is a mime, a sad mime.
But every time I look at him, he makes me happy.

Marcel does not like showers.

His sweater itches but he will not remove it.

He detests glass cases and works by candlelight.

He eats fish but will not partake in radishes.

He has fancy tastes.

Marcel does not appreciate modern art.
He is the 2nd cousin twice removed of Marcel Marceau.
His one true love has a unibrow.

He enjoys rocking chairs but abhors rock music.

Marcel is good friends with recently departed, California-bound Valentin.
The two mimes are travelers, balladeers and gatherers of tall tales.

Marcel recently moved into a new house that is very old.
The verdict is still out on his housemate. She does not sleep, ever.

He is currently whispering his secrets to a pair of very silly fish.

His new best friend is blond and a wee bit bland.
He has not taken to the hobbits.


He is deciding if he might stay a while.

DON'T JUMP MARCEL!
We would miss you too much!
Marcel is the handiwork of the lovely and talented Emily Stoneking. You can buy her products here. Marcel is wearing a removable sweater but you might have to pay extra for that. So far, he is one of a kind and I love him dearly.

Taiko and Shelburne Orchards are Stuck in VT

Taiko in the Orchard [46]

Goodbye Summer

Lately, my life has felt like a freight train, hurtling, out of control, moving forward but not entirely sure of the destination. Nuts and bolts slowly lose their grip and fly outward, the track gets hot from the speed. My head gets murky and it is hard to prioritize with all that loud clattering.

All I want to do is dig in my garden, lie in the sun, read the New Yorker, do some yoga - anything except sitting at that computer, clacking away, snipping and massaging frames and compressing and uploading and posting. Blargh.

Sometimes your body forces you to slow down. Three all nighters can be a little rough on anyone's system so a cold/fever gave me the permission I was looking for to chill out just a wee bit this weekend.

In my case, that means watching every last remaining episode of Battlestar Gallactica, apple picking, devouring HOT cider donuts, a moonlight tree house chat and one final swim on the LAST DAY of summer with Molly Hill.

The air smells SO GOOD right now - a touch of pine, the last gasp of summer vegetation and fresh dirt. The weather is weird and hot, windy and blustery, and chilly at night. It seems inevitable that something wicked this way comes...

This town has begun to feel very small but not in a bad sort of way. One Thursday night can mean a variety show in a hidden studio populated by many talented people, TWO CD release parties and an art opening. And the crazy thing is that you can GO to all FOUR events, easily find parking, eat some tid bits and run into people that you know. Small towns have some cool perks.

This weekend in new homeowner land, I rummaged a salvage dump, created an artful window lock, put together my parent's ancient wooden carved bureau that comes complete with candle holders, stained some cabinets and a bookcase and used my new drill!

I love working on my house. Every minute I spend on it feels like a little slice of heaven. Almost as tasty as those sugar-covered fresh cider donuts that I gobbled up straight out of the oven at Shelburne Orchards.

So I go forward again, not entirely derailed but lagging behind just a little bit, what is coming up around the next bend?

Baby Ivo Goes Camping

Molly Lynch and I once took make-shift publicity pics for our 2000 documentary by adhering electrical tape over our nipples and cavorting about inside a skeezy photo booth on Bancroft Ave in Berkeley.

I wonder what ever happened to those Polaroids and photo booth strips. Will I see them one day in Dirty Found?

Now Molly is a mommy to the fabulous Super Genius Sir Ivo, and this is her camping trip story. When do I get to meet Baby Ivo? Why does he have to live so far away in the City of Angels? I PROTEST!

Found Magazine was Stuck in VT

Found Magazine [45]

Sea Scent and Spiders

Sea green is the new color of my living room but its actual name is "sea scent." The army of long-legged spiders, of which there were 10 or so, fled to the radiator for safety.

As of yet, there is no real scent besides the overwhelming smell of paint fumes. But I will be smelling for the ocean.

I look forward to many long mornings sipping my coffee and gazing at my sea-colored living room.

I am glad 30 Rock won an Emmy but annoyed The Office did not win more. And not one Emmy for our current addiction, Battlestar Gallactica. A travesty, and boring too.

Thank god for Elaine Stritch and crazy old ladies everywhere - and yes, that includes YOU Sally Field.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Stritch reportedly hollered from the stage after winning the Emmy for Guest Actress in a Comedy Series. “I’m a recovering alcoholic, a riddled diabetic, and I’ve got laryngitis … but I just won an Emmy!”

Home Ownership...

...is a strange and wonderful thing.

You find little goodies in the most unexpected places like this old old OLD flowered wallpaper behind my bedroom radiator.

Today I found out that I own a "historic home." Who knew?!

That is all well and good but what that really means is I have to jump through a series of flaming hoops if I want to change my house in any way - say, hammer in a nail, hang a picture, yadda, yadda. After all, it is HISTORIC!

In other news, my house is NOT from 1910 as I suspected. It may have been built closer to 1860. Wow. I wonder what other treats are waiting for me as I give this old girl a facelift?

Who ever thought I could own someplace with so much damn history? Pull back a radiator and there it is, starring out at you in faded colors. Still blooming in her own way.

Another recent discovery, my lath and plaster walls are being held together with horse hair! That's right, my bedroom walls are filled with the hair of long dead horses!? Not sure how to feel about that one. But the walls have the nicest cracks.

And in other important news, my granny's bunnies and family o'mice finally have a home!