Dorothy and Hermione

Happy Halloween, everybody. Aren't they cute? I'm totally jealous of the OG's ensemble...but, then again, I could probably put on the YG's wig tonight and have some fun with The Man, too.

If relevant, I hope you got your kids shoveled into their beds into something like a reasonable hour, with something less than forty pieces of candy in their stomach.

Us? Not by a long shot. In the words of the inimitable OG, "Whoooo-EEEE! I'm gonna be a WRECK tomorrow!"

-----------------------------------
I've decided not to attempt the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) thing again. It makes writing a chore, and I want it to be fun, or at least theraputic. Plus, Badger had the best idea - to write about a song every day - and I am too consumed with jealousy to come up with anything on my own.

But - if I were going to do NaBloPoMo...I would do Four-Word Film Reviews. Or, TV reviews; I don't get out much.

For example?

My Four-Word Film Review of last night's "Heroes" episode: Hey, that's Yakov Smirnoff.

Things I Accomplished This Weekend

(...without The Man, mind you, who is on a little vacation to El Paso to visit Bret. Which I told him that I'm fine with, as long as there would be no beer drinking involved. He swore.)

• Took YG to music class while OG briefly attended a carnival
• Thenceforth picked up OG and took her to her soccer game
• Scrubbed the bathroom floors (on my hands and what is left of my knees, bitches!)
• Rearranged the glassware cabinet
• Dressed my children in their costumes for a nighttime - grownup, even - Halloween Party
• Attended the Halloween party, in a costume*, even THOUGH I had to go solo, and even THOUGH I didn't know that many people, and even THOUGH I Violently Hate Halloween
• Took the OG to softball practice (in batting cages, for the first time. She dug that.)
• Played with the YG incessantly during all of the OG's social/sports commitments
• Washed - and partially put away - 10 loads of laundry (!)
• Found the big plastic tub of OG's old size 3T-4T winter clothing and sorted it into YG's dresser drawers
• Went through some given-to-me-by-my-boss, hand-me-down clothing for the OG - who is now a size 8 (gulp,) and can wear tops that are a size 10 - and sorted it and put THAT away
  
• Found the
  
• Swept and mopped the kitchen floor twice
• Took the leaf out of my kitchen table, and Pledge-d the sucker until it screamed for mercy
• Cleaned my kitchen sink until it is...wow, it's white! I'd forgotten...
• Fed and played with the animals (Molly is now able to climb up on the back of the couch by herself! And she no longer smells like a three-weeks-open can of cheap wet cat food! She is utterly, fucking, amazing.)
• Bought art supplies and assisted the OG with a pumpkin painting project for school
• Made waffles - in the waffle iron, man, not Eggos - for my children, and didn't eat one
• Chatted with the neighbors as we watched our kiddos ride bikes on the street
• Taught YG to ride her little bicycle, which she did, for the first time, by herself
• Re-read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (because OG is deeply, excruciatingly, IN TO the books, and she keeps asking questions about them...and I realized that, in my quest to see how it all ended, that I missed some details.)
• Also glanced at the hagiographic Harry Potter entries in Wikipedia. They're scary.
  
• Reveled in the OUTSTANDING weather (78 degrees today; not a cloud in the sky. It's that time of year - that one time besides the corresponding same two weeks in March - that Austin has really reasonable weather.)
• Cooked a nice vegetable soup with stock I made from the remains of the turkey breast I cooked last week
• Listened to the MU Tigers beat Iowa State on the radio, from whenceforth we moved into the TOP TEN. Holy fucking shit. We are - say it with me now, children - ABOVE TEXAS in the rankings. As are the KU-freaking-Jayhawks. (Actually, beware; this may mean the approaching apocalypse.)
• Did not kill either, or both, of my children, though they each eminently deserved it at least once

*It was my perennial, no-effort costume, "Devil with a Blue Dress On." Nobody got it.

Metaphor

Balls to the wall?
Four on the floor?
Up to my eyes?
Going 90 MPH?
Holly up on poppy?

Whatever your favorite metaphor for "busy" - or your favorite XTC song, for that matter -

I have been absolutely smackdown, slackjawed, beat-to-the-ground, shitcanned, SWAMPED at work this week.

How busy? Well, for starters...YOUR blog has NOT been read this week. THAT busy.

Didja ever have one of those weeks? One of those weeks, when you are freaking RACING, from Monday through Friday, only to find out that, in the end, not much has actually been accomplished?

I believe this is why people drink, no? That, and all that clanging cognitive dissonance...
-------------------------------
Speaking of drinking...this is mightily amusing. Get to the end.



Thanks, Anita! What made you think of me?
--------------------------------
I'm starting to wonder about my commitment to McJo's Poker on Tuesday nights. See, I'm not great at it, but I'm just good enough...or enough of a slow player, however you may wish to view it...that I'm usually in the top three or four players, out of ten.

That's nice for pride and all - as Connie would attest, I'm reasonably competitive - but if I'm in the top three or four players, I'm either playing until the bitter end, or I am DEALING until the bitter end.

This Tuesday, that bitter end was not reached until 1:30 AM. Last time I played, it was 1:45. I won NEITHER of those games; I came in third and second, respectively. That means that, on those evenings, I got four hours of sleep, and received, in return, NO money, NO glory, NOTHING, except a few measly points on the board that only exists in the fantasy world known, to twenty-five or so people on the whole planet, as "McJo's Poker."

Every week that I go - only every other week, at best, as The Man also has to get in his fix - I swear that THIS week is absolutely the LAST FUCKING WEEK that I am putting myself through this nonsense again. And yet...and yet...I always sign up again.

Poker, you are officially my Bad Boyfriend. You are clearly not worth my time. All my friends say so. I'm never speaking to you again. Hmmmph.

(What? You say you're drunk, and want to come over? Well...OK, just this once...)

'Twas brillig, and the slythy memes...

...did gyre and gimble in the blogs.*

1. What time is it?
8:43 P.M.. And I'm going to bed soon. And I'm not ashamed.

2. What's your full name?
Mags. Mags FrauBlucher Dirigible. Nice to meetcha.

3. What are you most afraid of?
Bad things happening to my family. For me personally, heights. And death. Death from heights, more to the point. Oh, and my cold, unflinchingly brutal, digital scales.

4. What is the most recent movie that you have seen that was bootlegged?
I don't believe I've ever seen a bootlegged movie. Oh, wait; I watched a suspicious DVD of "The Little Mermaid" once.

5. Place of birth
North Kansas City, Missouri

6. What is your favorite food?
Italian and Indian. I refuse to choose. There are days for incredible crusty bread with herbed EVOO and parmesan cheese, red wine, long-simmered red sauce, and fresh cannoli; there are days for naan, saag paneer, chicken korma, and kheer. And they are all good days.

7. What's your natural hair color?
It's actually a non-color. It's whatever is between blonde and brown that absolutely refuses to choose sides. It's the fence of colors; the anti color, the sucking vacuum maw that exists in the middle of the color wheel. (And, whenever I'm poor enough to let it grow out, it becomes more and more apparent that there are serious streaks of gray; again, a non-color.)

8. Ever been a "neat freak?"
Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! (wipes eyes) Um...only compared to my husband. And my children. Sadly.

9. Ever been skinny dipping?
Erm, I grew up on a lake, helloooo?

10. Love someone so much it made you cry?
I've never NOT cried over someone I've loved.

11. Been in a car accident?
Several, though not for a very long time. (Universe, you will disregard that last statement.)

12. Croutons or bacon bits?
Real bacon. It is my most sacredly held belief that all foods can be improved with bacon. Amen.

13. Favorite day of the week?
Friday. It used to be Thursday, but Thursday has been kind of biting me in the ass recently. So, it's Friday, until Thursday gets its shit together again.

14. Favorite restaurant?
Again, I refuse to choose. In Austin, "fancy" places include Vespaio, The Clay Pit, Bellagio, Andiamo, Castle Hill, and Fonda San Miguel. But, I also love littler, cheaper places, like Mandola's, Curra's (the south one,) Guero's, Enoteca, Elsi's, Phil's Icehouse...hell, even Dan's Hamburgers hits me just right on some days.

Oh, though, some of the best places I've ever been are when I travel. Just outside of Austin, there's Cooper's Barbecue, which is our church on several Sundays throughout the spring. I love d'Bronx Deli and Arthur Bryant's Barbecue in Kansas City. Boudro's in San Antonio made the most incredible soup I have ever had. Best Indian restaurant ever? Oslo, Norway! The deli Trish and Mike took me to in Columbus, OH, was the best I've ever been to, anywhere. And, the pizza and cheesesteaks in Philly, this last trip, made me want to die a little bit inside.

Thus, I deem this question unanswerable. Next!

15. Favorite Flower?
This one, I have more of a problem answering. (Not so much the food one. Didja notice?)

I guess...Gerbera daisies, but that's only in the visual presentation, as I can't ever keep them alive. As far as the ones that actually grow in my yard for a while...I do like the multicolored Southwestern Cosmos that come up all spring and summer.

16. Favorite sport to watch?
Football. I really, really like watching football.

I hated football growing up, and my mother loved it. She always made me drive to Columbia with her to watch the Tigers games, and I was freaking miserable and bored for every single one. At some point, I started to at least develop a modicum of understanding of how the game worked, but it was completely under protest.

However, at some point, in college, I realized that, if I watched football with guys I was interested in, then I could "get my foot in the door," as it were. And, I don't know if it was the power of association (like football=getting lucky; ergo football = fun,) but, at some point, I began to like it.

Now, ironically, watching football with the man results in kind of the opposite equation. (Football = hanging out with the guys drinking beer; ergo football = us passing out with no sex involved whatsoever.)

17. Favorite drink?
Alcoholic: really expensive and smooth red wine
Non-Alcoholic: Hibiscus mint iced tea, unsweetened. Or fresh-squeezed, tart, lemonade.

18. Favorite ice cream?
The Almond Joy ice cream at the little ice cream stand outside of Bedford, MA. Or, coconut almond fudge ice cream/gelato in general.

19. Warner Brothers/Disney?
Miramax, actually. Oh, OK, if you force me...I'm a Disney girl.

20. Ever been on a ship?
I don't think so. Many, many boats, but the only "ships" have really been ferries...e.g. across the English Channel.

21. What color is your bedroom carpet?
It's all hardwoods.

22. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
Just once.

23. From whom did you get your last e-mail?
It was spam. Before that, from Trish.

24. What do you do when you are bored?
Memes

25. Bedtime?
Between 11:00 and 12:00.

26. Who would respond if I tagged them?
Not sure; probably everyone else is way more bored with these than I am.

27. Favorite TV shows?
I'm too embarrassed to go nattering on AGAIN about TV shows. Um, I'll pick "My Name is Earl" insofar as what is on right now, and "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" for favorite TV show of all time.

28. Last person you went to dinner with?
Besides The Man? Erin, in Philly. At a lovely little Italian bistro in a swanky part of downtown. Incredible seafood in broth.

29. Park or Zoo?
Park

30. What are your favorite colors?
Blue, Red, Purple, Black.

31. How many tattoos do you have?
None. I keep fantasizing about getting a tramp stamp,** but I really don't have the lower body to pull it off.

32. How many pets do you have?
Um, we really don't need to go into that right now...it's a source of "contention" in my "marriage," as I'm supposedly "the one" that "keeps bringing home" more "animals." (Although, as I constantly remind The Man, it was HE who had the three cats when I met him, and I only had the one...so HE is actually the crazy cat lady in our relationship. So there.)

One dog
Five cats (Molly looks...kind of great, actually!)
One Sea-Monkey

So, whatever that comes to. I don't think it matters. Next question.

33. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Most mornings, it's eggs.

34. What do you want to do before you die?
Go to the South Seas.

35. Do you have a celebrity crush?
Many.

36. Have you ever been to Hawaii?
No, damn it.

37. Have you been to countries outside the U.S.?
Yes.

38. Time this survey ended?
10:03 P.M. And time well spent. (What else was I supposed to do? Put away my laundry?)

Thanks, my old buddy JB, for the e-mail!
-------------------------------------
*Do you know the reference? Do ya do ya do ya?

**Disclaimer: The term "tramp stamp" does not imply that I think that any or all of my friends that have them are "tramps." They are, in fact, "sluts."

Are You Clockwise or Counterclockwise?

Continuing the thread of not posting anything meaningful...or at least substantive...

Go here and look at this:

http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html

and then come back and tell me if you're "clockwise" or "counterclockwise." (Or if you, like the man, are too busy staring at her magnificent tits to decide.)

If you try really hard, and stare at the shadow at the bottom for a while, you can see it the other way. (And it's really freaky; once you see it one way, it's really hard to see it the other way.)

I thought I was clockwise, but after I looked at it a while, I decided that I'm "bi."

Pour le amusement...

From "How I Met Your Mother," when Robin revealed that she was once an 80's teen pop star in Canada:



I'm gonna rock your body 'til Canada Day!

A Sad, Sad Day in Central Austin

Oh, no, y'all...Brentwood Tavern is being shut down!

I am majorly bummed. This place has EVERYTHING - it's in my neighborhood, walking distance from our house. It's outdoors and kid friendly - hell, it's practically Kid Happy Land, or as close as you can get without being some godawful hellhole like Chuck E. Cheese - what with the playscape, the stage, and the big bales of hay to climb on. While the service was incidental, the burgers and masses of fried yummies never lacked, and the sweet, homemade sandwich buns were fantastic.

Oh yes; of course, it also had big, soothing pitchers of BEER. Good, cold, frothy BEER. And did I MENTION that the kids liked it, too? And that we could WALK there? And that it was a great place meet to have soccer parties, or meet for a birthday gathering, or just MEET, for no reason other than it was Friday and we were too tired to cook?

Damn it.

But, that's not the worst part...the worst part is the reason WHY it is closing. The rumors suggest that some guy wants to open some place where he can house his new-agey crystal collection.

I do not shit you. No, sadly, I do not.

Sigh. The last night is next Thursday, Oct. 25. If you're in Austin, let's all head down sometime this week to pay our respects with some Stella Artois, onion rings, and ignored-yet-happy children, shall we?
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In other 'hood news, they were filming a scene for "Friday Night Lights" at the Crestview Minimax yesterday. (Yes, we drove around it and gawked. We don't get out much.)

I like that show so much when I watch it, but I just don't watch much of anything anymore...and my TiFaux is freaking maxed out, full of stuff that I don't have time to watch.

Should I make that one more of a priority, I wonder? Sadly, most weeks I don't make it past "Heroes," "The Office," "My Name is Earl," "Lost," and "Thirty Rock." (Though I am getting to like "Reaper" and "Pushing Daisies," insofar as the new crop goes. I tried "Journeyman," but felt it was just "Quantum Leap" all over again. And, I never did turn that pseudo-porny HBO show "Tell Me You Love Me" back on again...it just sucked, and by that, I'm not referring to the graphic blow jobs.)

I'm In Ur Houze...Eetin Up Ur Sal-ar-y!

OK, I've got LOL Cats Fodder for you...and I'm awaiting entries...

First off: Do you remember this waifish little guy? This was Curbie - nee "Kirby," spelling changed courtesy of the OG - whom we adopted in February, on a whim:


The visiting shelter lady doing her weekend stand at the PetCo saw a sucker in me straight off, and handed him over to me "just to hold for a second." As he draped himself over my arm like a motionless, furry purse, I had an epiphany; this might just be the right animal for the bouncy and hyperactive OG.

Though he'd been taken care of at the Gonzalez shelter, he was underweight, and pretty small overall for eight months old. His tail looks a little bent because there was a mangy spot, right near the end. He also had a sore on his leg, and was pretty ratty-lookin' overall. I have to admit, sweet cat or not, I had my doubts as to whether this fugly little kitten was at all worth the time.

So, eight months later, this is Curbie:


Nowadays, the fur is no longer mangy; it's thick and soft. (Would make a great pair of gloves, actually) I'd put him at at least a ten-spot, weight-wise; maybe more. Unlike previous big-boned cats that I've had in the past, he carries his weight in his backside, causing us to rename him "Lardass" "Chunkbutt" "Hippolicious," etc.

He's still sweet, and still generally a lumpy suitcase of a cat that can be carried from room to room draped over any arm that can manage to support his girth. And, I will admit, he does pay the rent, in that he happily sleeps on the OG's bed every single night while she's falling asleep .

But - I have to say, this is the most smug bastard cat that I have ever met. Seriously, look at that self-satisfied smile!

"Yeah, I started off at a shelter, can you believe it? Now, I'm CEO of the fucking Trump Cat Condo for Suck-ahs! Hey, would pass me that bowl of primo Bark-n-Purr organic overpriced kibble? Nah, I don't feel like getting up; just stick it next to my face and I'll roll over and lick it."

-----------------------------------
On a sadder note, this is Molly...

...whom, even though I'm sad for her, I am sure is saying something along the lines of "Screw you! I will NEVER die! Look! I'm eatin' and drinkin'! And walking around, albeit into walls! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

-----------------------------------
OK, damn it. I. MUST. STOP.

Eccch

I'm a little down tonight, for the following reasons (in no particular order):

• I had a really crappy day at work yesterday. I don't really want to go into the reasons, but essentially someone said something to me that was not only not fair, but was also completely illegal. (It was the same set of people that messed with me last year.) If I were the kind of person who would file a formal complaint, I would do so. But I'm not. I'm the kind of person that cries when I'm mad, and I'm the kind of person that can't NOT cry in front of the person who is MAKING me mad.

• I hate the fact that I cry when I'm mad. It makes me more mad. That makes me cry more.

• I absolutely cannot hide the fact that I've been crying, even hours later. It made for fun poker playing last night. ("Hey, Mags, how's it...JESUS, what is WRONG WITH YOUR FACE?", et al.)

• I have several friends, near and yon, going through major stuff. And I want to help them, but can't do anything other than tell them that I'm sorry. (Yo, my peeps...and you know who you all are...I am thinking of you. All the time. And, it is my fervent hope that, on some karmic plane, that this helps.)

• My cat, sitting on the couch next to me, whose life is slowly ebbing away. Still purring, though. (Oh. My. God. As I typed that last sentence, I leaned over and rubbed my forehead on hers. She staggered up, turned around, and fell over into my arms. I'm crying, AGAIN.

Dear God, please jam a fork into my cerebral cortex right now.
--------------------------------
On the upside, I got carded this weekend. That's always a mood-lifter.

However, I really could live without the "WHOA!" that always punctuates this exchange.

My Girl

So, here's the thing:

I have a crush.

ON MY DAUGHTER.

The OG, that is. My god, she is just...she is just so cool! And smart! And funny!

And - get this - she's not taking ANY medication anymore; no Adderall, no Zoloft, NO NOTHING - except vitamins, minerals, and fish oil capsules with Omega 3!

The Man and I went to her parent/teacher conference today, and it was SO positive. Her teacher said to me, "(The OG) is a great kid. She's smart, and she's happy, and she's interested, and I really, really like her." (No, I know, teachers always have to say that. It was her tone. She meant it.)

When I apologetically told her why OG isn't on the meds anymore - which has mostly to do with the side effects on the OG from the Zoloft and Adderall from last year; when she was having the bad dreams, and when she withdrew into her darkened room with her blinds drawn for hours at a time, when she stopped letting me hug and kiss her, and when she repeatedly cut her fingertips off with the scissors? Her teacher was HORRIFIED, and absolutely could not believe that I was talking about the same child. "OG? No WAY! That's not her AT ALL!"

I'm not sure what's happened to her this year. She's - all of a sudden - gotten so grown up. She's blowing off temper tantrums, she's laughing and joking with me all of the time, she's sitting through whole dinners at restaurants without getting up six hundred times and/or having a massive meltdown, and she's doing homework without too much stress. She lets me hug her. (Although not in front of her second grade classroom. Gaw! Mom!)

She even has a best friend that I really like. I spied on her on the playground the other day when I dropped her off - I'm not proud - and she was playing, so delightedly, with that friend, and not pacing around the fence by herself, looking awkward, because the one person she had fixated on that day was refusing to play with her!

So, this crush thing. It's weird. I swear, I think about her all the time, and how much I'm just in love with this person she's become. I can't wait to pick her up from school, and - I wouldn't lie to you - over the past few years, that has NOT always been the case. Likewise, taking her with me on errands is not the dreaded chore that it used to be - because, though I cannot believe it, it is more likely than not that we will have a good time, instead of a horrible fight.

Oh, she's not perfect. She still antagonizes her sister, she's still REALLY distractible, and I still have to remind (nag) her to complete even the most basic morning routine tasks (that she REALLY should know to do, even at age seven) before we are late, damn it. But, the crux of the matter is that she is tending to stop negative behaviors before I get all pissed off and punish-y. Most of the time, these days, a warning will suffice. And that, my friends, is AWESOME.

I don't know what spurred all this on. Simple maturity? The lack of psychotropic drugs? (Surely it's not just the fish oil and vitamins.) Is it us? Are we better parents these days? Did we finally get her, and she us?

Whatever. I'm totally in love, and don't care.

**Oh, and YG? If I die, and you read this many years from now? I love you too, and very dearly, at that. Oh, and by the way, that tube top makes you look like a hussy.

----------------------------------------------
Molly's home. Not in the metaphorical sense, like "She's gone home, brothahs and sistahs," I mean she's back at my home. And still alive, though I would not say that there is a lot of joy there.

She is eating and drinking, and can stand up and walk around a bit. However, they weren't particularly optimistic at the vet's, but did say that I could probably have a few more weeks with her.

Before you say anything, I promise that I won't torture her. She's on some meds, and I might have to give her some subcutaneous fluids, but I won't force anything else on her. And, if I am to be brutally honest, we can't afford it. If it would make her live for two more years happily, then yes, we'd do it. But I'm not going to throw down horrific amounts of money for - well - this, which just is not going to last that long, and is pretty unsatisfactory at that.

I just wish she could talk, you know? Say, yes, I'm still wanting to live, or no, I'm done with all of this shit. Her body language, in the past, has always implied the former - even pissed off and evil as all hell, she wanted to live.

Now, though, I'm not so sure. She looks pretty distant.

Sigh.

The cat...

...is not doing well.

Molly, that is.

When the vet calls you three times in a day - and starts the talk about "quality of life" - you know it's probably not going to end well.

They got her to eat something just at the end of today, surprisingly. I wonder...can she do it? She's pulled herself back from the brink of death many times over...can she do it one more time?

We shall see. Not feeling too hopeful, though.

The Philadelphia...Tale?

No...The Philadelphia...Recap?

The Philadelphia...Essay?

The Philadelphia...Roman a Clef?

Aaah...darn it...there's a perfect title in there SOMEWHERE...just can't think of what it could be.

Anyhoo...

Friday: Day One of The Trip to see Erin, Ben, and their new little baby boy, whom we shall refer to as The Bean.

Day one was also, sadly, Day Two, if-ya-know-whad-I-mean. (How is Day Two, after two months with none of those days whatsoever? It is MIND-BOGGLINGLY BAD AND DISGUSTING, as it turns out. Thanks for asking!)

I flew out on Friday morning through Houston. Uneventful. I fell asleep with my magazines on my lap, and the nice young man sandwiched next to me had to pick them up. At least once.

Erin and the Bean picked me up at the airport that afternoon, and I spent a lovely evening staring at the baby - who is utterly worth losing oneself in, take it from me - and thenceforth walking with the family to a fabulous neighborhood pub. I was forced into having a ginormous cheese steak with fries, plus several beers, as we watched the Phillies take a loss on their path to pennant victory over the hated Mets. Loverly. (Not the Phillies part. That was apparently a bad thing. I, not liking my chances otherwise in the bar-full-o'-fans, elected to assume the role of Phillies devotee myself.)

So, this pretty much sums up Friday (I didn't get one of the steak):


Saturday: Outstanding day. Blue sky, seventy-something degrees, happy baby, lots of coffee. We roused ourselves out of the house at the crack o' noon, and upon my vague requests to see something "old! And historic-y! But not the places I've already seen! (Independence Hall, Liberty Bell, etc.) And outside! And some actual fall! Like leaves and stuff!" Erin and Ben elect to head to Valley Forge.

Valley Forge is entirely beautiful. It's a big state park, but really well within the bounds of Philly proper. It's hilly, and green, with tons of trees and wild animals. (We saw approximately one skillion deer, and at least one fox.) I think most people who actually live there go there to walk the very nice exercise trails, but we waited for the park ranger to deliver his little tour/spiel combo about Washington, the Continental Army, and the famous winter that they spent there. And, Erin even talked me into sitting for the storytelling lady's story. It was very interesting, about a Quaker woman named Lydia Darragh who sort of accidentally became a spy for the Continental Army, which resulted in the Quakers - staunch pacifists and not-take-siders that they were - kicking her out of the religion.

We also saw the Musket Guy do a talk about...well, muskets. It was cool. He shot it.

Replica huts. Real hot(ties):

And, Erin and Ben. Don't know what he's doing behind her.


That night, Erin and Ben indulged me in a bit of Austin-ness...I cooked up two kinds of enchiladas - one batch of chile/chocolate mole, with some dried chiles and Mexican chocolate from Central Market, and one batch of green chile/sour cream, or "suiza" enchiladas. Served with refried black beans and homemade tortilla chips...it was a big, greasy, mess o'Texas, right there in their lovely kitchen.

Of course, we also had margaritas with fresh lime juice...it would have been illegal not to do so, I believe...and, as Erin didn't have a shot glass, the resounding cry of "Of COURSE a quarter-cup measure will do!" echoed around her lovely 1930's home. Several of those later - and at three in the morning - Erin and I somehow managed to find our beds. I think. No, no, I'm almost positive.



Lovely house with pretty tree. I was like a week too early for fall. But, look! That tree, it's kind of reddish-hued!

Sunday: Girls in the City day. (No Sex in the City. Day Four, plus mother of a new baby? Hello?) Erin and I headed into town on the train. I saw her lovely office, and we spied on an open-house tour of her old, single-girl apartment, which was entirely fabulous and way too cool for me.) We had the most incredible gelato ever - Olive Oil! Seriously! - and then a lovely dinner at a small Italian bistro.

Here's me at Independence Hall, thinking "Olive oil gelato?"


Saturday night, Erin provided me with perhaps the biggest indulgence of the trip...she bought tickets for, and hauled my ass to, the King Tut exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum. On the LAST DAY. Of an exhibition that has hosted ONE POINT THREE MILLION PEOPLE. AT 8:30 PM, which was the EARLIEST time we could GET IN.

Things did not look good for us when we got in. Within five minutes, two people had treated us crappily. It was crowded, and we were still feeling the margaritas and the late hour of the night before. (A quarter cup, for future reference, is MORE THAN one shot.) We got there early at my behest, and of course they wouldn't let us in before our scheduled cattle chute entrance time.

Sullen, heads throbbing, we looked vainly for something to do that wouldn't involve us getting into a fistfight. And...lo and behold, there arose a tented mecca, temporarily erected in the middle of the museum, for pissed-off tourists: Tut's Oasis, from whence you can purchase such delights as the "Tutini." Pictured below are the "Blue Nile" and the "Nefertini," respectively:


These lovely, overpriced confections with the absurd names, coupled with a smiling waiter who was only barely suppressing a laugh during our entire time there, saved the evening. We gamely shuttled through Tut - really, really fascinating and incredible, and of course horrifically crowded - and ran back for our train home.

Sunday: A leisurely walk, a lovely lunch, a stop by the awesome hoagie/cheese steak place for three more sandwiches and two slices of pizza for The Man, and then the flight home. I pass out during Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I lose the pizza on the plane, and one of the sandwiches mysteriously doesn't make it home.

Today: Back at work. This greeted me as I picked it up from school:


Cute? Yes! Disgusting? Most certainly! (Do you like the filthy street urchin-slash-"princess" dichotomy?)

Leaving, coming home...it's all good.

Thanks for a great weekend, E, B, and Bean. Can't wait to reciprocate in Austin. (But, no promises on seventy degrees, unless you come in like February. Then, it could be ninety; could be twenty.)

Austin Ho!

Back. Fat. Tired.

Even my back fat is tired.

Will post after my cheese-steak swollen fingers are better able to type...