martinimade

This morning, on my way back from the gym, I spotted a guy in a white suit, complete with white fedora. His face was covered in white, too, like he had one of those green screen body suits on, but in white. He was just standing there, expressionless in white, waiting for the bus.

Reader - I had a frisson moment. Then I remembered what day it is. Then gave him a mental "well played" and drove the rest of the way home.

But I just saw him again, walking around the park in our backyard. This time, he was accompanied by a man all in black who was holding an umbrella above the guy in white's head. With the drizzle, it was downright unsettling. 

Yes, I know. A picture would be great right here but I don't have the technology to snap one with my phone. I've put my camera in my pocket. If I see him a third time, I'll snap a picture.

Unless, of course, he and his partner aren't just dressed up for Halloween and are really here to devour my soul. In which case, well, it's been nice to know you.

ETA: Because this is a small town, Jen. D. knows the soul stealer (aka "Brian") and provided a picture. 

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days 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 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 might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

And, this, my dear children, is why zombies should never, ever have pets.

Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.

Oddly short list this week. Apparently, I haven't been farting around on the internet as much as I usually do.

* Must get back to Scotland.

* My love for both Beyonce and acapella makes this a total win.

* But why bother with sex ed?

You guys amaze me. 

Serial mittener Fran is still knitting.

Two more pairs showed up last week!*

Also in the mail:

From Priscilla in Ithaca, who found that knitting mittens brought her peace. Knitting gives more than it takes, yet again.

It's starting to dawn on me that this tree is going to happen and that I** need to start engineering the tree frame and blocking off a weekend to build. I'm also thinking of printing up some flyers that explain why and how this all happened, which would be near the tree for people to take. Thoughts?

(If you're wondering why mittens, click here.)

* We've entered the time of year where those of us north of the Mason-Dixon find natural light hard to come by. I had to clear off the top of a bookshelf and turn on every dang light in my office in order to get halfway decent snapshots. 

And then I had to clear Barney off of the bookshelf. Too many animals up in here.

** By "I," of course, I mean me and the Spouse, who has been roped in for the structural component. 

“Obviously, we cannot police students,” Johnston said. “It’s not cool to puke on a bus.”

-- From this story, in the local almost daily, for whom I also write. Living in a town with two colleges is mostly great, mind, but some of our problems are .... unique.

Sometimes, when the stars align just so, you find a product that you simply can't resist. And when it's sold by some of the fiercest, bravest, and smartest women you know, well, it's all you can do to not just fling money and risk putting out one of their eyes.

All of these were snapped in the Tween's room. Please note the condition of Sucky-the-algae-eater's tank* and One Direction over my shoulder. I try to not worry.

Why would I care about my uterus staying in? Read the text on the another mother runner's site. All should become clear.** And in keeping with their shirt page: I'm a 36D and wearing a large. I do wish the sleeves were about two inches longer but it's not a deal breaker. 

I decided to do that duck face thing all the cool kids are doing now:

Then made the executive decision to never do that again. 

While I was in Maddy's room, the dog decided to take advantage of my absence and jump on my bed, which is generally frowned upon:

I think this is where I'm supposed to say something like "who could stay mad at that face?" But, really, I can stay mad at that face. Not forever, mind, but she can be a bit of a butthead.

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* Technically, his name is Sucky II: The Return of Sucky. 

** Also, if you're a mom who runs, you need to subscribe to the podcast, if nothing else. Also, also, I might be using one of their training plans to prepare for a very big race (for me) in May. And, no, no one is paying me to endorse them, etc. I simply feel like part of their tribe.

Regretfully, there won't be a new figs this week. I know. First the government shutdown, then this. 

Instead, let us spend a moment with the Lothario of Smith Street.... 1, 2, 3, 4.

* We are living in the future, people.

* Jazz hands.

* Especially #22, although they are all great.

* Why snails?

* Poverty's inter-generational Catch-22.

* It starts with a single knot.

* So this is kind of amazing.

* How the GOP went insane.

* I'm surprised the former Soviet bloc countries score so high. (Which is not to say that I don't love them. Just that societal forces encourage taking care of yourself rather than anyone else.)

* Still looking for a costume?

A blog reader - hi, Nick! - emailed about where to send mittens, only he's in grad school and has no time for knitting. But there's something else I'd like send, he wrote. Which was both exhilarating and terrifying. I had a brief end-of-Seven vision.

I ought not to have worried.

UNICORGI! On a sticker! Thanks, Nick. I've been wandering around my office trying to figure out where to stick it.

From the kid files -- in case you've ever wondered when gender differences show up, I offer proof that it's before 3rd grade.

The Boy had a group project. His group had two boy* and two girls. The project was to glue imaged paper, then write a story about them. Above are the images. 

And the story. Note both the romance and the destruction. Wonder how it would have turned out for those two.**

* One the boys was yours, Doula K.

** Reminds me of a book Maddy used to check out a lot.

Geoffrey Tennant: I have a responsibility to the entire company, to the festival. This is about theatre ethics.

Oliver Welles: Theatre ethics? That's like saying "whorehouse morals."

-- Slings and Arrows, which was brought up by a facebook friend, with whom I used to do theater. If you're looking for a Canadian series that completely captures the madness that is the business, cue 'em up.