* Between the ideal and the real w/r/t breastfeeding.
* I kind of love this story.
* The Derailing Darlings.
* It's always more complicated than you thought.
* Finally, Someone else notices what I have been saying for years.
* Um. "Cat" is not the first thing I think of when I see these.
* How to read Infinite Jest, which you should do right now.
* Two from Jezebel: Fitness doesn't look like you'd like it to and *sigh*
We were up in the Husband's hometown for a family wedding last weekend and had a lovely time. There was swimming and shopping and eating (a lot of eating). There was, of course, a wedding, which was all one could want. The kids had a fine time playing with various cousins and riding the escalators at the mall, because that is something we don't really have in Oneonta.*
I took pictures of none of it because I left my camera at home. This is what I do now, apparently.
Instead, I give you a picture of a Boy and his dog, which I took not 30 minutes ago.
During the three days we were gone, she went from being a puppy to being a dog. She still acts like a puppy, mind, but looks like an honest-to-Queen Liz Corgi now. And a proper one at that.
* Both escalators and a mall big enough to need them.
It's a poem today, one I stumbled across by accident on Sunday. Sometimes, you get what you need.
Instrument of Choice by Robert Phillips.*
* I'm just going to link to the poem. It's too short to really quote.
I somehow failed to mention this. A few months ago, a cute little tin showed up in the mail. The top of the box looked hauntingly familiar.
Inside:
I'm not sure who it came from. I emailed the Sexy Knitter, who sells these handy kits here, but never heard back. Anyone need to confess anything?
Also in the "it came in the mail" file, this book:
I am not a subscriber to Contemporary Literary Criticism, not even for the pictures. I started at the index for a bit but didn't find myself, as one does. But then I noticed who this volume is focussed on. One of the writers is George Saunders. Hey, though I, I've interviewed him.
And sure enough, that's why I had this in my hands. I have zero doubt that the publishers contacted me or Jessa for permission. I also have zero doubt that I then promptly forgot all about it. A good surprise.
Finally, something that didn't come in the mail.
Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.
Wal-mart is the answer to global warming.
No, wait. Hear me out.
You can’t walk into a Wal-mart without being filled with a nauseating combination of existential despair and lethal rage. After five minutes in the store, I’m personally convinced that I will never be happy again while simultaneously wanting to stab someone in the next with a broken ballpoint pen.
My tolerance is low. But nearly everyone would crack after a couple of hours. The few who remain at their baseline states were already broken.
Those who emerge are either a) too depressed to breed or b) dead, because they’ve been stabbed in the neck with a pen (or the equivalent). Open Wal-marts in every city in every country and force people to shop there. Soon overpopulation will cease being a problem and with it all of its attendant woes, like climate change.
You’re welcome.
Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.
* And you shall know us by the click of our needles.
* Yet another reason I love Nathan Fillion.
* Nearly half. Now tell me this isn't a problem.
* The SNAP challenge. (Days one through seven are on the blog. This is just the link to day one.)
* You really ought to be watching Our America with Lisa Ling. But if you can't commit to the whole series, at least watch this one. (You should also be watching Culture Shock, btw. And, yes, I love documentaries.)
* Traveling alone is one of my favorite things.
* Sex advice from John Oliver.
* And, indeed, the title doesn't lie.
Shameless promo: The story of Zombie Squirrel and on the SUCO observatory, which is run by a guy who looks almost exactly like a guy with whom I had a complicated relationship in college.*
More importantly, this weekend we celebrated the Boy's 7th birthday.
He's thrilled.
He's not as much of a party planner as his sister, so it was low-key. We invited some of his friends over, went bowling, went swimming, had pizza and cake and called it a day. And now he is seven.
They say that's the age of reason. What are the odds?
---------------------------------------------------
* That last part didn't make it into the story because, really, who cares? But it did startle me when I first met him. Dead ringer.
“You see the lighted windows and what you want to think is that there may be many interesting stories behind them, but what you know is that really there are just dull, dull souls, mere consumers of food, who think their instincts are emotions and their tiny lives of more account than a whisper of wind.”
-- Terry Pratchett, Soul Music
Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.
“I know. Right?” The poodle said.
They called him Pierre The Piddler, Stainer of Carpets.
But in the deepest recesses of his doggy heart, he longer for something more dignified, like Thor or, even, Fluffy.
“But here we are,” P the P sighed. “One incident is all these people needed. And don’t even get me started on the fur pom-pons and polka dots. Do I comment on their accidents? No. No, I do not. Because I have standards.”
Then he lay down, covered his snout with his dainty paws, and dreamed of bunny-filled meadows and peanut butter trees.
Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.
* I've long suspected that this was the case.
* Road Trip!
* I have been to Arthur's Seat and had no idea about the coffins.
* The bears will eat you, ladies, because you are filthy.
* How many have you read? (Confession: I've never been able to finish Dhalgren.)
* This is what poverty looks like.
* On behalf of the 10+ minute milers, of which I am one.
* Mercy.
* Nerdgasm.