martinimade

Generally, I don't go for pet-themed art. Nor am I a big lover of the canine. Don't get me wrong -- there are certain dogs that I love, just not dogs in general. FWIW -- I feel the same way about children.

Anyway.

While in P-town, I walked into the Kennedy Studios and fell plum in love with Ambrose, who is the first dog pictured on this page of the artist Georg Williams' website. It's not so much that I love sheepdogs. It's just that the expression on this dog's face reminds me so much of the Boy that I just can't stand it. I don't even know where I'd hang such a thing -- the art, that is, not the Boy. Still. It calls.

Unrelated but worth mentioning -- SUNY-Oneonta (and the department in which I teach) gets some love. Sweet.

Also unrelated but worth mentioning -- Josh Wolk and I stopped watching Real World at the same time and for the same reasons. Just another reason why I love him.

A Texas mother hangs herself and her three daughters.

Nothing new, mind you. Just thought it was worth noting.

Every now and again I write a review for the Baltimore City Paper. Here's the latest one on Interfictions: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing. What does "interstitial" mean? Ah, a fine question, grasshopper. Now snatch this pebble from my hand.

(Incidentally, I might have to go up to Cooperstown, which is only about 25 minutes from here, to see this exhibit on ice cream. Wonder if there will be samples...)

Doula K called last night to alert me to this NPR essay about living in the same neighborhood with overgrown children. Ed Cullen and I take the same approach to talking to the kids about too much noise. There's nothing like the sight of their little bloodshot eyes at 9 a.m.

The following caption is an inside joke that only a few folk will get. Sorry about that -- but there are some nice shots from Scott and Maddy's whale watching adventure  off the coast of Cape Cod...

Hey matthew --

Whales live here.

* Random picture from the trip

* I have now eaten the best snack food in the universe. Sadly, it is only available in Maine. I suspect there is mail order in my future.

* It's nice to be able to stop paying obsessive attention to the French Open so early in its run. And that is the only upside of my Andy's result today.

* QOTD: President Bush expressed his continuing support for embattled Attorney General Alberto Gonzales at a press conference in the White House Rose Garden. "I've got confidence in Al Gonzales doin' the job," said Bush, as a passing sparrow shit on his sleeve.
-- From this week's Harper's Weekly, whose juxtaposition of information makes the news more amusing.

ETA: I have gotten word that GOTHIC will be coming out in an audiobook version. More details when I have them...

We are back from our travels on the great and mighty East Coast. Reinsertion into life as we know it continues. You will be advised when normality is restored.

While you wait, a new column from the local almost-daily. This one is about how stupid I am.

ETA: If the above link only gets you half of the essay, click here.

(How awesome is this shot that the Hub took?)

By now, the birthday girl will have received this. It's a Dream Swatch Head Scarf (scroll down). Told you it wasn't a scarf, tho, really, it could be.

Detail of stitches and this wonderful Habu Bamboo. And now I'm pondering whipping one up for myself.

This was the first gift. It's an eye pillow from Interweave Knits (scroll down). Nice and all...but the Head Scarf is much, much better...

"Generally, the phantoms ignore me, busy with their own affairs. For these shadows, as for my students, the times are separate. The Indian village that I see is gone: past tense. the campus through which I walk is now: present tense. For others, there is no overlap between the two. I live on the border and see both sides."

-- Pat Murphy, The Falling Woman

Stolen from Gwenda Bond.

First, the beach. Note the wind. Ft. Lauderdale wasn't haven't the best week for weather last week. Lots of rain. Lots of wind. Still, it was a heck of a lot warmer there than here. And Upstate New York has a decided lack of palm trees.

Apparently, I like to take pictures of random flotsam. Or is this jetsam?

This was an old tetherball that had been out to sea long enough that it had been colonized by some sort of shellfish. Or, perhaps, it is something Lovecraft dreamed up.

The view from my room.

The view of my toes.

Shadow, sans toes.

Now, the speech: I don't know that I've had that much fun for an hour and a half and gotten paid for it. It went very, very well, is what I'm saying. I didn't realize how much teaching had improved my public speaking -- but, man, what fun. People laughed at the right bits and gasped at the gasp-y bits.

Sometimes, it all comes together.

Now, I just have to figure out how to get more gigs like that so that. Not just because I enjoyed it but because I presented info about post-partum from a personal perspective that this audience of social workers/therapists hadn't heard. One of the women in the crowd -- 400 people is more than you think, when you're up there lookin' at 'em -- suggested putting together a DVD. It's something to think about, certainly.

Any thoughts?