Still Here, But Ooftah...

Had a really nice weekend with my family. And a more-or-less two day break from concerns of The Good Doctor. Back into the fire today, where it was necessary for me to use up one of the vacation days I had planned to take for my paternity leave.

Starting at 8:30 am this morning, I:

• Re-tracked and edited a music piece that is being used for a scene.
• Loaded up all the risers for our stage, brought them over to the performance space, and helped affix legs.
• Followed up on advertiser money & artwork.
• Worked through tech rehearsal as actor/stagehand.
• Just got back home (10:15) to re-re-re-track the music piece, cause the cues were still not given to me correctly.

Other, minor little considerations (not so minor, if they fall through, unfortunately) were ever-present in my mind, throughout the day. Christ almighty, but it's going to be an enormous load off my mind when we simply get to opening night (when I know that nothing else can be done) and then an even bigger load off my mind when we get through the first performance, by hook or by crook; just simply proving that we can actually do it.

There's a lot of factors making things more difficult this time around; not the least of which are the fact that this is our inagural production. We literally had NOTHING in place; no past advertisers, no precedent for space, no knowledge of our company preceding us in the community, no lights, no stage, no nothing. Next time, some of that infrastructure will be in place. But there were also some issues with some less-than-perfect delineation of duty. And a tiny, tiny company. It was really a lot for five of us to take on, especially when four of us were acting in the play. I'm going to have to dial it back in the fall, as Sharon gets closer and closer to her due date.

On a side note, if you've not been following Valerie Borey's Good Doctor Blog, shame on you! She invites readers in on a very personal perspective of putting this thing together, often with a more thoughtful tangental take on the different steps of the process; unlike me, who feels like I'm just struggling to keep my hair in. From the recent cast photo shoot, see me; insane & sweaty: 50% because I just finished one of my physically & emotionally draining "freak out" scenes in the play, and 50% because that's just how I've been looking & feeling lately.

Boo-Yah and the One-Upping of T-Clog

My purchase on Saturday.

Friday night we were in a state of near-emergency. Our grass and dandelion forest had gone to seed, and everything was far past our ability to cut with our reel mower. I left a desperate message for Mixdorf to give me the lowdown on corded electric mowers, but then had the inspiration to borrow a mower from a neighbor. We did and, by chance, she had an electric, corded one she had just bought this past year. Using it was heavenly. The ease with which the thing cut our front yard the next day was so amazing; and the cord, so little hassle (relative to the use of a reel mower), that I resolved to run out and make a purchase that very day.

What you see above is our new Craftsman, 12 amp, mulching mower. I spent a decent number of hours on Saturday (prior to the front yard mow) and Sunday (prior to the back yard mow) doing my version of the "20-minute gardener," which was essentially just picking off all the dandelion heads that were at full seed, so that the use of a mower would not just scatter them. I then went through and did what will probably be our last our last first and last pass with a grass catcher till possibly fall (when we may use it for leaves). Lawn looks decent, for the time being; though we may be about due for another round of corn gluten to make sure that we're good on preventing the sprout of seeds that have spread in the past couple of weeks.

God, I hate that I'm sitting here doing "lawn-talk." I hate lawns nearly as much as I hate cars. But what can I do, other than slowly work towards my ultimate goal of "less lawn." Coverage by various plantings of Sharon's are slowly taking up more & more real-estate; and the area under Lucy's new swings will undoubtedly be a dusty, grassless region by mid-summer. Definitely a work in progress.

Suffering From a Level of Stress that Would Make T-Clog Proud

I've been stressing out about the show. But not for the reason one might expect. In addition to learning my part, I'm having to try and generate ad sales, get the word out in the neighborhood through a variety of creative ways, and take on all kinds of logistical concerns most of which have already been considered by our company director, but about which I nevertheless freak.

It's almost like my own personal performance is the least of my concerns, and that just seems crazy.

Yoink!

We're "off book" this week for rehearsal (meaning, we can no longer have script in hand). Valerie, the Camden Civic Theatre dramaturg, blogger, and actor (whom I play opposite in one of my two scenes), has an interesting post on the subject today.

Little Chicky, Growing Sure and Not-So-Slow

We went to our 2nd prenatal appointment this morning. Much relief, again, to hear that heartbeat chugging along, though a little slower and louder this time.

During the first pregnancy, there were all sorts of little things that happened to Sharon, physiologically, that seemed kind of out of the ordinary and like possible causes for concern; however, when we'd go in and talk to the midwife at an appointment, we would be assured that, "Oh yeah, that happens a lot." Basically, we learned a lesson about "expect the unexpected"during these 10 months.

Well, not much has changed the 2nd time around. Now, both time when we've made a little list of things to ask about (should she be "showing" already, and up this high? why would she be feeling extraordinarilly tired all the time? etc. etc.), we are assured, point by point, that these are things that are very common for a 2nd pregancy.

Overall, a very reassuring visit. Excitement continues to build...

Laser Tagged!

I am: in puruit of something elusive, but hopefully taking advantage of all the wonderful and interesting roadside stops along the way
I want: Personally-top of mind-a digital piano. a Goose Island Honkers ale......say that was easy! Globally: peace, social justice, conservation.
I wish: The slow march of social progress could speed up and scrunch the inevitable next 150 years into the next two. That I could make a living in a creative endeavor.
I hate: The president, his friends, and those that do his bidding. Violence and, and those who perpetrate & encourage it. The love of cars.
I miss: being childless (though, do not confuse this with "regret," as it's not that at all). backpacking. my buddies.
I fear: Personally, regret. Nationally, about 31%-34% of the American people. And Globally, theocracy and corporations.
I hear: The fan from my computer. Sharon's shower.
I wonder: how many people will come to The Good Doctor? I guess that could also go under "fear" and "want"
I regret: Too much. It's one of my biggest faults. Mostly, not getting either a geography or natural sciences degree in college.
I am not: going to send you up the river or suddenly turn into some kind of a dick (unless you think I'm a dick already, in which case "I can't win em all")
I dance: When the mood strikes me
I sing: Almost constantly, when not at work
I cry: Lots. From telling Lucy how much I love her, to that infamous episode of Fresh Prince of Bel Aire, I am liable to mist over at any given moment.
I am not always:
I make: music, laugher (I hope)
I write: songs, blog entries & mini-essays, flash fiction
I confuse: many things, sometimes needlessly
I need: the ability to do nothing
I have: non-stop aspirations
I should: not check email & go online so much at home
I tag: how bout this-NOBODY!

CRAZY Busy!

While responding to a question about whether I'd listened to the latest release from the Coalescent Musical CoOp, I realized how many plates I currently have spinning. The sort of situation where other aspects of my life (mainly, home maintenance issues) feel like they can quickly slide into chaos.

I've been trying to squeeze in practice for a set of songs I am playing at a solo acoustic show at Camden Coffee Company tomorrow. I rended my vocal chords a bit last week during theatre practice and their weakened state allowed a bit of a virus to settle in. I've had a minor cold and have been attempting, with some minor success, to kick it enough to give me a proper voice for Friday night. In addition, rehearsal is heating up for The Good Doctor. Next week we are "off book" (e.g. we can no longer use our scripts), so I have been studying my lines by listening to a recording of me playing all the parts in my scenes on the way to and from work. I had rehearsal Tuesday and last night.

But oh, were it only the art itself I had to worry about! It is crucial to our company that we pull off this performance successfully. It's not just about the quality of the show, but how many audience members we get there (we need 60 a night for 4 performances, minimum) and, unfortunately, how many ads we can sell in our program ($1,000 worth, minimum). In addition to trying to gear ourselves up to perform, the company members need to hit the streets and sell ads. Ugh.

All right, all right, I got my hair cut. Are you happy now?

Hell, Yeah!

Wither the Honky Tonk, Countrypolitan, and Outlaw Albums?

Actually, I have a theory.

As a few might know, I've gotten increasingly into pre-1990's country & western music throughout my adult life. But a strange phenomenon prevents me from exploring the various sub-generes to the fullest. The albums simply...aren't...available.

Anyone who takes a particular interest in classic rock n' roll can find the majority of the supergroups' entire album collections in just about any record store worth half a damn; or at least by visiting two or three. For the next tier down, even; one need only shop around on the internet for a little while, if he wants a choice from every release from a particular discography from this style of music.

But country? Good luck. Actual albums from such artists as Don Williams, Don Gibson, Bobby Bare (and many, many others), who may well have sold millions of LPs in their day are conspiculously absent from the entire realm of popular music commerce. What gives?

Well, as anyone who knows much about popular music knows, country music underwent a transformation sometime leading into the 90s. From my perspective, a soul-selling, disturbing transformation to what I would deem an entirely new and twisted type of music, not really related to the original style. Very similar, actually, to the transformation that occured within the once-meaningful and exciting genre of R&B.

Anyway, I would guess the generation of "new country" fans is similar to the bubblegum "dance group" fans in top-40s music; the appeal of music is about the presentation, the style, and the image of the artist as much as the music itself. With today's mini-skirted, supermodel country divas and metrosexual-sideburned male singers with cowboy hats that have never been within miles of an actual horse, there's very little room for the shaggy, ol' bar room outlaws of the 70s & early 80s. Admittedly, some of those artists were projecting as much of a purposeful image as today's artists, but most of them actually lived a pretty rough and tumble lifestyle that would be considered a pretty genuine reality behind the image.

I would further guess that the fan base of these "legends" artists, in their time, did not include as a large a contingent of "music-head" type fans; ones that study, deconstruct, and devour all that was related to their favorite artists, as their rock music counterparts were doing with Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, the Beatles, etc. These fans, likely, drifted into new interests, aged & died, or were never, otherwise, driven to demand any more from the music industry than a series of retrospectives and "The Essential..." collections. If you look around, you can still find some older Willie albums, and some Johnny Cash (who both have worked overtime to try to keep their appeal and sales over the past quarter decade); but that's pretty much it.

It's a real shame, as I scour the www.AllMusic.com discographies of some of these artists and see the long ranks of five star albums and reviews for CDs that simply don't exist. I really hope that this wonderful, lush period of popular music history, post Hank Williams and pre-Randy Travis, is not lost forever; and that, over time, it's unique and often heart-rending beauty is discovered by a new crop of music afficionados. To that end, you go, Best-Of Collections! You're its greatest ambassador.

I invite all who have an interest to check out the Country Heritage station at www.AccuRadio.com. It includes songs in and out of the particular period of music about which I've been writing, but as good a representation of it as any station I've heard.

For Joy Wk 3

In my succession of picking the most beautiful (forecast-wise) day of the week for my Hyland Park run, I went out yesterday. I was actually accompanied by a co-worker who is in his
mid-fifties but has the body of Batman (the comic-book version, not the Adam West version). The temperature was hotter than anything we've seen yet this year, and we were coming off a few days of rain, so certain parts of the run became a wet slog, undoubtedly slowing us down a bit.

My past experiences running with this particular individual have been when I was in active training for one event or another, in pretty prime shape; and even then, it's always been everything I can do to keep up. He's the kind of guy that has historically run year in and year out, three+ times a week. However, he's shifted his focus in the past six months to Pilates, and has only gone on, by his admission, "two runs since October." As such, I was in the game. He set out at a pace I think he is used to from memory, but that he couldn't sustain in that heat. I was game for attempting, having not really pushed myself to the limit so far this year. We ended up having to stop for a couple walks (he asked for the walk, I was more than willing to oblige) along the way. It definitely took a lot out of me; energy-wise, as well as water-wise, but it was nice to "give her" for a change. Variety in one's runs is but one of but many, many of the spices of life.

In talking during the run, I told him of the idea I'm kicking around with Mixdorf in only the most beginning of stages, about doing a three to four day running (probably more like walk/running) of the Appalachian Trail through Massachussetts from Vermont to Connecticut, bringing along only a water belt, one change of clothes, and a credit card; and getting sauced at a succession of brewpubs along the way. The type of thing about which I'm a lot more likely to get all whipped up than him, but perhaps with a little encouragement we could get Mixxy to pick up the torch, as well. Maybe he could take pledges from coworkers to support "Doctors without Borders" or some shit like that.

In any event, yesterday was really good evidence that an endeavor like that is not the type of thing you just pick up and do without some preparation.

Breaking the Rule of Thumb to Make an Announcement

The rule of thumb being not a whole hell of a lot of "shop talk" in this forum. Though, regardless of whether I feel compelled to discuss it on a regular basis, the fact is that I'm a professional geographer that considers himself pretty good at his job, and long undervalued in his workplace.

That is, perhaps, until today. In a move that my boss has been acknowledging is overdue but in need of the final few signatures (for, like, the last year) I just got promoted. When speaking to me, you may now all address me as Senior GIS Analyst. Not a huge bump in base salary, but I am now apparently "bonus eligible," which is a bizzare concept for a Crocodile Dundee like myself. I'm eagerly looking forward to finding out more about it, however...

On Second Thought, Maybe Once a Month...

I was thinking there'd be the chance I'd bike into work maybe once a week this late spring & summer. I did today, and the total time it took (one way): one hour and 40 minutes. And my legs are somewhat jelly-like. It's a beautiful ride, as probably 85% of the ride as on biking trails & around lakes and so on, but as I do pretty much no other biking, it seems like that's a bit of undue stress I would be subjecting my "bikers" to, if I were to try the ride too often. Not to mention that a three-plus hour round trip puts a pretty excessive constraint on my work schedule; especially on the days in which I pick up Lucy.

On a side note: I was having all sorts of ruminations and thoughts along the way on the various geography (both physical and cultural) I encountered along my ride. I think it would be fun to do the ride, take notable photos; then do a narrarated slide show or something . Fun for me anyway...maybe not those that would be expected to view it.

"I Hate Special Effects"

A great quote, the title of this post, from my brother, Lindon. He uttered it late one night the last time he came to visit my parents in Iowa. I got up late to go down an check out cable TV and found him watching American Movie Classics, or some other similar station, and we got in a conversation about movies, with both of us generally agreeing on the fact that there has been an almost perfect inverse relationship between the rise of the special effects wizards and the decline of the importance of the script as a foundation for American film.

With the notable exceptions of Star Wars, LOR, and Harry Potter, I haven't gone near a first-run action/adventure film in years; and pretty much don't rent them. I know there's good stuff still out there, and I don't mean to cast aspersions on the filmmaking crews out there-there's some amazing cinematography, editing and other post-production out there (a friend introduced me to Bourne Identity a few months back, and it was a fine enough film); but it seems that more often than not; characters, dialog, and even scenes are recycled, recycled, recycled (Bourne Identity better than most action adventure movies these days in that respect, but not really paving any new ground). It's something that really, really bugs me-that Hollywood keeps dishing it out and people either stand for it, don't notice it, or (worst) eat it up. Reviewers, even, seem to let to all but the most horrendous of repackaged offerings slide by; knowing that if they go down that dangerous road, they'll be out of a job, for they'll have to start ripping nearly every film that exceeds a $15MM budget (and goes through the "Hollywood Executive Finishing School" or whatever it is that requires a protagonist to say something cool before punching someone in the face, or all Native Americans to have unbelievable, mystical powers and be underscored with a woodwind instrument).

Anyway, when I rented Three Musketeers (1948) Sunday night, it was during a 2 for 1 special. I was really in an "escapism" sort of mood, and decided to take a chance. At some point in the past couple of years, I saw a preview for Hildago. The plot seems an obvious enough recipe for disaster: American cowboy enters long-distance horse race in the Arab world. Especially, in this crazy post 9-11 world; where one-upmanship over anyone in a turban can be a cheaper, easier hook than a guy getting kicked in the nuts. However, the one thing that intrigued me was that Viggo Mortensen was the star. From some various things I'd read and heard about him, I thought that he would not become associated with anything that would not approach representing cultures in anything other than a tactful manner and, basically, that he would not do a crappy film.

However, from the first scene of the movie; where he bests an uppity Englishman in a race; then punches him in the face while diverting his eyes with a coin flipped into the air, I suspected I was in trouble. In the second scene, when he somehow, inexplicably, finds himself riding about in the carnage after the Massacre at Wounded Knee, I knew I was in trouble. At that point, I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that this was going to be a series of eye-rolling, groan-inducing scenes designed to hold together a bunch of thrilling, action-packed scenes. In other words, the very thing I was talking about for the first few paragraphs of this post. And Lord, was I right on about that. Audible, indeed, were my groans when the sheik's beautiful daughter announces she doesn't want to marry an Arab prince by arrangement, when she is caught in a compromising (but innocent, mind you) position in Viggo's tent, when she is kidnapped and Viggo is told he must rescue her or get his balls cut off, when this big muscular black guy helping Viggo in the rescue kicks an unblievable amount of ass but then (oh yeah, you guessed it) dies valiantly, when Viggo rescues at least two guys from dying that would have not done the same for him and that then have a chance of heart, that indeed-all the Arabs seem to have a change of heart (maybe we should just send a cowboy over to Iraq...), that a wealthy British woman present for the race is trying to seduce seduce him and fix the race at the same time, that Arab culture is portrayed as primitive and ridiculous relative to the modest and quiet wisdom of the American cowboy......well, it goes (and went) on and on.

Viggo, what...the...hell...happened? I know I'm hardly the audience they're going for here, but that was pretty much the nail in the coffin. There's too many good classic films and new, independent films being made to waste my time even trying movies like this any more. Or sequels. Or comic book character movies. Or anything with Tim Allen or fucking Nicholas Cage. Or talking fucking animals. Fucking, fucking animation with the pig that farts and the duck with the Jamaican accent.

My question is simply this: how hard is it to simply do films like this and make it unique and original. Just try an interesting twist; or a lot of interesting twists. Give your audience credit enough that they'll jump on board with you-you might just find that you have a classic on your hands. Am I alone here?

Non Stop Excitement, Domestic-Style

Busy, but enjoyable weekend filled with family fun and numerous indulgences.

Among other things:

• Watched, with Sharon, the second part of the 1938 George Cukor film, The Women, which I had seen in college but not since. From that genre of pre-special effects film where dialogue is fast-paced & witty, it was better than I remember. A man doesn't appear on screen in the entire film, as these various wealthy socialites plot, disrupt, and otherwise connive their way into one another's relationships and marriages. Highly, highly recommended.
• Watched, by myself, the 1948 swashbuckling rompus of The Three Musketeers. I consider this one to be from some yet-unnamed genre of bigger-than-life spectacles featuring cringe-worthy anachronisms and no end of unbelievable characters and dialog, I would like to refer to as "The Ridiculous Era of Film." Ridiculous as the film was, however, it was a bit of a visual treat, as it featured such stars as Gene Kelly (as D'Tangan, no less), Angela Lansbury, Lana Turner, and Vincent Price; and some of the most amazingly choreographed swordfighting scenes (Kelly-you can imagine) I have ever seen. Definitely worth seeing; maybe even worth renting, as who knows when you'd ever have a chance to catch this one on TV.
• Drank my first, but not last, Goose Island Honker's Ale. A wonderful English bitter.
• Did a bike ride (70s & sunny, here in Mpls) with Lucy in the bike trailer. She's cool with it this year, which opens up load of possbilities for enjoyable late spring and summer afternoons...
• Got together at the coffee shop with an old chess mate for a couple of games. Good conversation. Great bagel. Lost both games.
• Went for the first read-through (all cast assembled) of The Good Doctor. That's gonna be a lot of fun. Our director, however, is also scenic designer for another production in town right now, and so is trying to balance a couple of schedules, especially early on. We won't convene again until May 1, and from that point there will be rehearsals every night (though my particular scenes will only be two or three nights a week, I suspect), with the expectation being that we are "off book" (not using scripts) within two weeks' time. Kind of atypical; but in all theatre companies, I would guess that the atypical is pretty typical.
• Went for a great, early evening run of my river loop (just a hair under three miles, on paved path for most, but backwoods trail for about 1/4 mile along the Mississippi).

What else can I say? Looking forward to more great weekends and more great evenings, as my work schedule permits...

The Great Magazine Search

I've been without a magazine subscription since my one-year Runner's World in 2001 (the last year I attempted marathon training). Before that, I had canceled a subsription to Outside, when it seemed their irreverant, gonzo-approach to the world of non-traditional sport started to lean a little more in the direction of L.L Bean and Toyota Pathfinder. Currently the only human member of my household without a subscription, I decided to possibly get back in the game, when I received a Girl Scout-sponsored form from my niece, Taylor. Choosing from their selection of magazine, I checked out two issues each of four publications that were under consideration from the library:

Outside: Somewhere along the line, I had the idea they had gotten a wakeup call, and were a cool magazine again. Nope. They had a lot to say about high-tech hiking gear and expensive vacations I could not afford, and were filled to the gills with luxury vehicle/SUV ads (including about six prior to the table of contents-a practice that I think would really annoy me, were I a journalist). The very essence of the magazine seemed to be the anithesis of the "light footprint" approach to outdoor travel and sport, and I could not have been turned off more, relative to what I was hoping for.
National Geographic: I found about half the articles fairly interesting, though I kind of have the same beef with the advertisers. What is the deal with the marriage between automobile manufacturers and magazine ads, anyway? They're ubiquitous. In Outside and National Geographic, I found a real sort of dichotomy between a series of articles every issue talking about conservation ("Saving America's Last Wild Places" or whatever) or the science of global warming; and then all these ads for this products that represent overconsumption and a big ol' fuck you to the very point the articles were arguing for. I don't know whether the blame falls more on the editorial staff for allowing this (less likely), or the readers for supporting this with the spending (more likely), but I don't care. I just won't have it. Joe America would like to tell me "if you don't like it, then don't read it," so fine. I won't. I'll find a publication that doesn't give me the heebie jeebies when I read it, or go entirely without. Or maybe I'll check out (literally, from the library) a magazine from time to time. Some of my biggest "activism" (or, perhaps, "slacktivism") is where I choose to put my dollars. I take it very seriously. And I don't want to throw it behind hypocrisy like this. In my mind they are making a choice (and certainly, it's a no-brainer for them) between my dollars and Buick's.
National Geographic Traveler: The ads didn't seem quite so in contrast to the editorial content as they did in the above publications, but they were generally of the same bent. My experience with this magazine, actually, had been in digging through old back issues at my mom & dad's. There, I was able to grab numerous articles of places throughout the world that I found extremely interesting. In retrospect, I realize that I was probably grabbing a pile of magazines in which to find those articles. I don't think the subject matter is quite consistently fascinating enough to me (or wasn't, in the two sample issues), to entice me to subscribe. Especially when you consider the "this is a pipe dream; I can't afford these trips" factor thrown in. I did, generally, find the writing and the approach towards travel to be fairly high caliber. But ultimately, I don't think I would get enough, issue in and issue out.

Backpacker: The most pleasant surprise of the bunch. Still a few Nissan X-Terra ads & crap thrown in, but also plenty of flat out gear & outfitter ads. The editorial slant definitely seemed to be firmly in the spirit of backpacker culture; not trying to appeal to some wealthier, older, larger, yet watered-down demographic of their bread & butter readership. The articles were pretty cool; though I would feel almost a little out of place reading the magazine these days. Fact is, we only camp about 3-4 times a year these days, and we never backpack (and probably won't again until Little Bean #2 is at least five). It would be a totally detached place from which I'd be reading the articles, and I can't help but to feel that there'd be subject matter that would be more personally relevant to me than what I find in those pages.

Wow-so where am I on this? Perhaps the magazine for me doesn't exist at all? Or perhaps (like most things of interest to me) it's not to be found on a "America's Top 200 (Magazines, in this case)" order form. I don't think poor Taylor is going to have me help her reach her quota. I've considered a subscription to "The Nation" or "Mother Jones," but to be honsest, I'm a little worn out from all the outrage. I feel like I'm getting the majority of information I need to have informed political opinions, and more preaching to the choir in which I sing is just going to whip me up and depress me unnecessarily. Maybe I consider the newly discovered Damn Interesting my "subscription." Their articles are fascinating. Maybe I up my blogroll. But God, sometimes I just want to kick back on the couch with a cat in my lap and a beer on a coaster. Say...perhaps I'll opt for some pure indulgence and be a founding subscriber of Beer Advocate Magazine. Hmm. I just may do that. Or I may opt for nothing. I will take suggestions, though...

Born at the Right Time

It's been amazing, how my relationship with Lucy has changed & grown over time. As she has evolved from an infant whose existence was defined purely on the basis of physical needs and comfort to a complex, inquisitive, creative little girl; time I spend in her company has gone from being touch-and-go to being, more often than not, pure joy.

We still have moments where the "resistance to authority" trait rears its head; but that has really, really subsided in the past few weeks. Almost like she's gone through another developmental step forward that maxed her out for awhile and reached a more peaceable and happy state. It's really a cycle that's repeated itself over and over in her first three years.

It's hard to explain the extent to which our interactions, and the way in which I get to perceive this amazing world vicariously through her eyes exceed my wildest imaginations of how much a source of joy and precious a little child of mine could be. I get to see her break into spontaneous, uncontrollable galloping about in pure unadulterated happiness at the mention of stopping by a park on the way home from school. And listen to her sing 15-minute, stream of consciousness songs that would put Alice's Restaurant to shame. And play games of chess where one of her moves sends a rook up onto my knee. Games, conversations, and stories. Running, hugging, sharing a treat. True-Heart Bear underwear, coffee shops, and puppet shows. These are truly the best of times. Though in the heat of occasional, minor frustrations it can be a little tougher to remember, I know that this little girl has long since gotten to the point where she gives as much as she gets.

For Joy Wk 2

Yesterday-about 70 degrees with a breeze. I headed off to Hyland Park again-this time taking a south loop and running for about 40 minutes with a pushup/situp break in the middle. Once again, a wondrous experience. Saw: red-tailed hawk, plenty of deer tracks, fur and bleached bones of some sort of coyote prey. Heard: pheasant (two different places), cry of red-tailed hawk, chorus frogs.

Man, that just recharges my jets.

Another Grand Experiment

So, making the green decision to buy a powerless reel mower has been one that has caused some extra work and frustration. Yes, it cuts grass cleanly. But you have to go over every inch of your lawn twice. And if you happen to skip a week or two and the grass gets high? Well, it gets particularly ineffectual, actually just knocking the grass over, rather than cutting it.

To make matters worse, a reel mower is incapable of cutting dandelions. So, while everyone else in the neighborhood sets the blades on their mowers so low they leave burns in the dirt, and nip dandelions in the bud, so to speak; we had a couple of occasions about three years ago, where we knocked over dandelions in full seed and basically succeeded in spreading them throughout our lawn. That was a stupid act for which we are still paying consequences. Last year, we spent many hours working on our knees, trying to make a dent in the dandelion population, which takes over our lawn to an embarassing extent every spring.

I am definitely in the "less lawn" camp. If you get me going, I'll try to explain how it is ludicrous how Americans are so in love with large swaths of lawn, paying an unkowing tribute to our British roots, while ignoring the fact that 95% of the US does not have the natural climate to support it. Over time, I'd love to have a lawn that we turn into a mixture of native plantings, walkways, and wildlife corridor.

That said, the dandelion explosion in our yard is embarrassing.

So, the Grand Experiment? Corn Gluten pre-emergent weed and feed, which we spread on last week. It won't get rid of the existing dandelions, but will keep new ones from spreading as we continue to slowly eradicate the existing ones. Giving Green one last try, there. Results of the Grand Experiment to follow in weeks to come.

On a side note: the product was developed by researchers at Iowa State.

Happy Easter!

For Joy

It's in the 70s, beautiful, & sunny today. I indulged myself for a short drive to Hyland Park (where Sharon used to work in Bloomington) so I could go on a 30 minute trail run.

Clear, blue skies; light breeze; chorus frogs in full gear; and an immensely peaceful and gratifying moment of "yes...yes...this is where I belong." I couldn't wipe the smile from my face as I ran.

Consider a moment like this a point in favor of Zephyr Valley.

Chess & Theatre Updates

So, starting from the easiest levels has done wonders for my confidence and my game. I strung up a quick series of five vitories vs. level one of "Ivan the Conquerer," then graduated to level two. I destroyed Ivan on level two, actually gaining one victory in a mere seven moves. I then moved onto level three, and won a number of somewhat harder-fought battles; twice actually coming back for victories after losing my queen. I've started to get a lot more comfortable with the game; seeing how scenarios will play out, and work my pieces together effectively. A couple of times, I've gone in with the board to show Sharon the last four or five moves that were made, as the circumstances of the final attack and checkmate seem (to me) pretty unique and intersting.

Last night, then, in the third staying up past-midnight evening in a row, I decided to give the dreaded level four a shot again. Victory.

On the theatre front: callbacks were last night. You can read a little about the experience (and, of course, a journal of pretty much our entire production process) here. Afterwards, we headed out to an eatery for our director (Jaron) and artistic director (Jeff) to discuss final casting. As it turns out, I will be playing two characters (a guy who becomes obsessively preoccupied with sneezing on his boss, and a banker with gout who is driven up the wall by a nutty, persistant woman looking for a loan). Both are quite different characters, and should be a lot of fun to both practice and perform. Rehearsals begin mid-next week.

lcd

Ah-the concept of marketing to the least common denominator. Simply trying to buy some pjs for my three year old daughter, I find an ridiculous and narrow array of stereotypical options for girls: only fairy princesses, butterflies, and flowers. Literally only princesses, butterflies, and flowers. And for boys? Trucks and basketballs. It is mind-blowing, in this modern world of supposed equality. People who would be outraged and offended by any verbal suggestion or implication that girls are a dainty, fragile gender think nothing of clothing their young children in this insulting attire.

In addition to the general annoyance of it all, is this feeling that the thing is a sort of the culmination of numerous cultural sore points for me:

• Constant merging of retailers and brands, resulting in fewer consumer choices.
• The war on intellectualism: "We've merchandised out the need for imagination! And the need for your child to try and figure out on their own what their place is in the world!"
• Pervasiveness of marketing. In some instances, we've found that a clothing item simply isn't available at all without a character likeness on it.
• Perhaps the worst: Sexism, pure and simple. On boys' clothes? I've seen lizards, sharks, tents, basketballs, etc. etc. and all that is bold, adventurous, and diverse about the world. On girls'? Princesses, flowers, and butterflies. Oh yeah, and rainbows. Dream-land. I shit you not. There's seriously nothing else. And all is right in the world when Sharon does a program for a group of second grades and all the boys want to get their hands all muddy and all the girls shriek when a snake is taken out of a cage. Is it any fucking wonder? I do behlieve that there is an innate factor at work in the two genders for gravitating towards some of these preferences and tendencies. But Christ, our culture exacerbates it. Can a girl currently grow up to be a scientist, or a life-long athlete, or a president? Sure-but right now I have the depressing feeling that-in most cases-it has to be in spite of her background, rather than as a result of it.

160

Beats per minute, a little heartbeat that was difficult to find right away, but which came through, crystal-clear with the little belly microphone that was concentrated in his/her direction. Apparently, 160 is right on target, as Little Bean 2 (we really need a new nickname, and fast) is only an inch and a half long at this point.

With our family coming out of a pretty stressful whirlwind of a six months and me, personally, being a bit overwhelmed by the number of spinning plates I have currently, there has actually not been all that much time to just sit back and reflect on the miracle we have growing steadily in our midst. For all the uncertainty we have surrounding our environment seven months from now, I remember how my initial reaction to the positive prenancy test was pure mirth and joy. It was a similar feeling yesterday, when we heard that heartbeat. I had forgotten what sort of first, enormous milestone that really is-that moment when all your nagging thoughts of "what if the test was just wrong?" or, worse, "what if something has gone wrong in these first couple months?" (the midwife reminded us yesterday that the vast majority of miscarriages, were they to occur, would have happened by this point) are laid to rest and the baby becomes real. Indescribable, the love & closeness you feel for your partner at a moment like that. More laugher ensued. And it was wild, having Lucy there. She really didn't get a whole heck of a lot out of much of anything else (although there was some curiousity during the actual "examination"), but she joined in the excitement during that listening session.

On a side note-the first night of auditions went well. We had a few no-shows, but also had some really talented performers come; some with surprisingly impressive resumes and professionally done head shots (publicity photos). We went out to Perkins (where the flag is bigger than the parking lot) afterwards with the director to sort of run through the auditioners and discuss callbacks. I had a short stack and, stupidly, a couple of cups of coffee which ended up keeping me from hitting the sack until 2:00 a.m. Got up at at 5:45 a.m. Based on my experience, 3:00 p.m. should be interesting.

Birthday Bash Wrapup, Onward with Little Bean 2, and Tryouts!

It would have been great to have the playset together for the party, but oh well...It was still a great time. Lucy's best friend, Harper, was there, as was one-year-old Elsa, making her first appearance in the Hylton household in quite a while. Both were smash hits. Adults present were A&K of south Minneapolis, our neighbor Ginger, grandma Lois & Grandpa Jack who are both spirited enough following last weeks trauma to engage in some lively bickering over diabetic menus, and Harper's mom.

Tops were popped of Spring Ales & Spring Bocks, and Papa Murphy's pizza was consumed. Much sharing of parenthood stories while the little ones did their thing; and then adults had the opportunity to be treated to a puppet show by Harper & Lucy prior to festivities winding down. Yesterday was a day of some recouperation, though it was also the day in which we chose to break the news officially (though we'd been dropping hints), that mamma's got Lucy's little brother or little sister growing in her belly.

Lucy & I will be going with Sharon to all of the pre-natal checkups, and today is the first one. Kind of a the first big moment after the intial positive pregnancy test, when you get past that dicey first six or so weeks and have a little one-and-a-half piece of precious cargo that is finally "real" with respect to the medical profession. Goal number one is to keep Sharon and, by extension, the baby, comfortable and healthy through the entire pregnancy. Goal number two is to prepare Lucy to be a big sister; making sure she feels like a very necessary and important part of the whole process. That began yesterday and continues full-force at the appointment today.

Finally, my theatre company had a meeting with a number of our production team to discuss our overall plan & the director's vision for our play. Today will be our first of two tryout days. The community response has been overwhelming, as we have over 30 folks showing up for auditions. My job there will be to take head shots of auditioners so the director can look & compare prior to making decisions for callbacks. Other company members may also be paired with an auditioner or two so he can get an idea of how various actors would work with us in these scenes. Exciting, exciting...

Gearin' Up

Gearin' up for the weekend; Lucy's having a birthday party. A couple of small friends (& parents) will be there, as well as my parents, up from Iowa. My dad was released form the hosital, by the way, and everything appears to be uner control-which is great. Anyway, we invested a fair amount of money in a wooden swingset for Lucy. I took a couple of afternoons off this last week in an attempt to get it together for a wonderful birthday surprise, but it wasn't nearly enough time. Alas, it'll just be a lot of running around in the backyard. Definitely looking forward to the swingset for this summer, though (the picture above is of the idea finished state-I've currently got it in the state you always see the boat in recreations of the Noah's Ark story, when people are heckling Noah) . Again, a decent amount of money (for us, anyway); but when I look back and remember some of the great adventures in imaginary lands from my youth, I see this as being a great, great part of Lucy's life for years to come.

Shocking, But Not So Shocking

My dad was hospitalized yesterday. As a result of constant peeing, constant thirst, and extreme lethargy, they brought him in, and his blood sugar level was tested at 700 (I don't know a ton about this, but I think 100 is the target level for diabetics). They stabilized him and gave him an insulin shot; it appears he is probably diabetic.

The last three or four years have been really rough on my dad who, at 77, is no spring chicken. It's tough to see this decline in a man who, in his youth, was so athletic & vital. Yet, the truth of the matter is that; whether because of the mindset of his generation, or because of his own ignorance/subbornness, the vast majority of his issues are as a direct result of ignoring his health for the last fifty years. Fifty years of no exercise and eating badly. You just can't do that.
My grandad on his side died of a heart attack at 76 and I have long been aware that my dad has not put himself in a position to be around for a lot of years of Lucy's upbringing. But a few years back, when he had an aneurism, it was a call to action and he immediately and successfully gave up smoking, cold turkey (it bascially took a near-death experience for the dangers of cigarettes to sink in). I can only hope this episode (especially if it is borne out that he is, indeed diabetic), will force some dietary rigor and control into his life. My mom is diebetic; this could have the added benefit of him not keeping foods around the house that are tempting for her. Wish him the best.

On a side note: two diabetic parents. Outlook for me not good.

On a side side note: He'd apparently (unbeknownst to me) had increased levels of pee & thirst for months, and has been repeatedly been in to see his personal practicioner to try to track down the cause of some other, seemingly unrelated, issues of swelling of the legs and tiredness. In all that time, no one thought to do a urinalisis or test his blood-sugar level? Hello, Covenant Medical Center? The Mayberry Clinic called; they want their doctor back. Jeebus.

I Don't Suck!

Use of one of the two chess sets I received for my birthday, the electronic chess set Ivan the Conquerer, has been a humbling experience. Playing game after game on the easiest level, I found myself repeatedly crushed. Hearing the robotic "Check...Mate" has become almost unbearable, and I found myself losing interest in even attempting a new game.

Well, during our family's "quiet time" (a down time set aside, in lieu of naps, which Lucy no longer takes), I was drinking a Summit India Pale Ale (which was quite hoppily bitter and divine), and scrolling through the options to turn off even the most basic vocalizations for Ivan. Suddenly, I realized that it had not been set on the most basic level at all! It was on "4" (indicating Ivan had four seconds to think). I switched it promptly to "1" and won the next game. Oh joy and exaltation, to take that fucker down!

It probably seems like a really lame move by a desperate loser. But to which anyone who has played me at chess can attest; I may be somewhat of a hack, but I'm not a bad chess player, versus other hacks. I asked for the chess set this year in attempt to get back into the game and maybe improve to a level where I wouldn't consider myself a total hack. Understand strategy; maybe think a few moves ahead in a way that isn't completely linear. But these repeated drubbings on level 4 were not accomplishing anything, unless it was to dispirit me and make me lose confidence. I swear that there was NO margin for error. On that level, if you make a single slip up, there was no praying that Ivan "wouldn't see" your mistake and take advantage. Pawns were deployed expertly in triangulated defense schemes in concert with other pieces as he marched his forces inexorably towards victory at the other end of the board. I still shudder at the remembrences. I may get back to that point at some point, but I think I need to string together a few victories at the lowest levels, and challenge myself incrementally. Level 1 is no cakewalk, but the playing field is evened out somewhat as he, too, occasionally will end up giving pieces away in exceptionally ridiculous blunders.

On that game I won, by the way: I turned the volume back on just in time to hear the historic, "I..lose..."

Random Questions & Answers

God love me, but I do like doing these things. Thanks, Stephen, except that you skipped a few questions-raising my suspicions...

1. What is your occupation? GIS Analyst.
3. What are you listening to right now? At this very moment, nothing. This morning, on the way into work-a list of 13 songs on the verge of becoming 10 for my upcoming installment in Coalescent Music Co-op. Yesterday at work-iTunes shuffle.
4. What was the last thing you ate? Five prunes-look out!!!
5. Do you wish on stars? I guess not as such. But I'm not against it.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Lame. But some sort of forest green, I guess.
7. How is the weather right now? Misty, rainy, and about 45.
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Mighty Tom, last night.
9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Nobody sent it to me.
10. How old are you today? 35.
11. Favorite drink? Really good coffee, mango shake, or a great American Pale Ale or Vienna Lager from a craft brewery, depending on mood and circumstances.
12. Favorite sport to watch? College basketball, at its very best.
13. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes, for a sufer costume, Halloween 2002.
14. Do you wear contacts or glasses? Contacts for day to day & rigorous activity. Glasses to rest my eyes.
15. Pets? Yes, Saraki (aka Squeaky or Feaky Bender)
16. Favorite month? October. Or April.
17. Favorite food? There's a few Indian dishes that might make a run at it, but pizza is still king.
18. What was the last movie you watched? Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Sharon & I, in our two-person book club, have been working our way back through the HP series of books, and watching the movie installments for extra clues, and general escapism.
19. Favorite day of the year? I think this is something you have to evaluate in hindsight, and it would differ each year depending on events that unfolded.
20. What do you do to vent anger? I don't really have "heat of the moment" anger issues. If Lucy's really pushing my buttons, sometimes I look up at the sky and make that "Aaaaagh!" sound Pee Wee Herman made when jumping off the train while the hobo was singing in "Pee Wee's Big Adventure." That usually stops breaks the irritation cold, as Lucy has to disengage enough to ask me what's going on, and things get diffused pretty nicely. Overall anger at the state of the world's affairs I deal with by writing or talking with those with similar views.
22. Hugs or kisses? From Lucy or Sharon, bring it on. From other family & close friends, I think hugs are great, though I don't tend to initiate.
23. Cherry or Blueberry? Depends on mood and what's being flavored. Generally, cherry.
24. Do you want your friends to email you back? What? No, I want my friends to pretend I don't exist.
28. When was the last time you cried? I may have since, but the last time I recall for sure was listening to Ben Folds' "I am the Luckiest."
29. What is on the floor of your closet? Shoe sorters, laundry sorter, probably some assorted clothes that missed the laundry sorter. What the hell kind of question is that?
30. What friend have you had the longest? Boy...Mixdorf? Wow.
31. What did you do last night? Went around the block with Lucy on tricycle. Fixed supper (Sharon was coming back late), got Lucy ready for bed, then put her down. Kind of crazy night trying to get her to sleep & I was not freed up till 8:45. Then called Mighty Tom based on a pre-arrangement. His family is out of town and I have Vonage (e.g. free long distance), so we had planned to have a beer over the phone. I drank a Summit India Pale Ale. We talked for at least a couple of hours.
32. Favorite smell? Coffee beans or pine needles. Smell of coffee wafting through the pines?
33. What inspires you? Family, friends, great art (books, silver screen, visual art) & music, social justice issues, physical activity, and nature.
34. What are you afraid of? Being the only guy that doesn't know what the hell is going on.
35. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Veggie burger. (same as Stephen)
36. Favorite car? I hate cars (same as Stephen). But one with great gas mileage, I suppose.
37. Favorite dog breed? Any kind of good timin' dog, medium-sized or up. I don't hate "little yippie dogs" like some people, but they're definitely not my style.
38. Favorite TV show? I don't really think in terms of a favorite. Don't watch anything currently, but I've started collecting the original Simpsons, so maybe that's it. I also really like Star Trek, the original series, Blackadder, the British version of The Office. I know there's some really well-made dramas I could have really gotten into through the years, but I just never made the time.
39. Number of keys on your key ring? Four (two cars, bike, house).
40. How many years at your current job? four and a half.

Stephen, if you want to pull those missing questions out of hiding, feel free. I don't fear them: my life's an open book. And Mixdorf, Aaron, & T-Clog, consider yourself tagged.

Stubborn? Maybe.

I can't recall whether I've done a follow up since that one blog discussion we had over stubborn vs. independent, but I have since been willing to concede that Lucy is stubborn. I think the two are definitely related, but I am pretty sure that she simply sometimes resists our authority as a test of wills.

It's pretty much the biggest issue we have. Looking back on our parenting of her first nearly three years, there's not too much I'd change, but I think we could have been a little more firm in setting limits. We've never really had a problem with "giving in," but what we may have done is let ourselves get drawn into long, drawn-out discussions and mousing around, needlessly, after a decision had already been made. In a book we recently read about parenting without threats or punishment, it talks about this part of a young child called the "baby self" that simply wants your attention, regardless of whether they're arguing, whining, or crying. A seemingly distraught child might actually be licking her chops undercover, the second you give her the response she's been noodling for. The book sums up nicely: "What the child needs: a lot of you. What the child wants: all of you."

We've actually been making a conscious effort (after the initial foot has been put down, and the reason given) of simply not entertaining any further discussion, whatsoever. If she wants to cry or get angry or whine, that's something she can choose, but the expectation that she will do what she's supposed to do will remain. Of course, it's easier said than done-especially when, say, trying to get her ready to get out the door without being late in the morning, but sometimes you're left with simply taking action (e.g. scooping a little girl up and simply inserting legs into pants against her firey will). But presumably, over time, she will continually learn that the "baby self" sorts of behaviors will simply not accomplish anything, and meeting our expectation in a positive way is the most sure-fire way of getting attention she craves. It's tricky, tricky, but we've actually seen some progress already. Almost like there's a load off her tiny little shoulders, but being in a constant state of being ready to rumble.

Of course, I don't mean to give the impression we've had all sorts of difficulties: there's no end to good times and fun, but the "baby self" conflict engagement definitely seems to have a knack for seeking you at at your most frazzled, drained times, and has been our biggest (and maybe only) issue.

I'm Just a Little Girl!

And some notes about Lucy from her teacher that we received at our recent conference:

• Current Work: Does very well with more complicated practical life. Good sequence usually with clean up. Enjoys puzzles, flower arranging, plant watering, table scrubbing, pasting, painting, cooking, food preparation, language & science work, counting.
• General Behavior: Mature and usually helpful in the classroom. Very social at times. Sometimes resists authority. Likes to do things in her own way. Very sure of herself.
• Movement: Loves to dance and move and jump. Enjoys being on the playground.
• Independence: Very independent and self-reliant. Strong personality.
• Language: Excellent language skills. Tells great stories and is able to talk about her feelings. Loves to sing and make up songs.
• Peer Relationships: Gets along well with most children. Has developed close friendships. Easily upset when teased.
• Group Time/Songs: Loves to sing and dance. Enjoys organized movement activities.
• Toileting: Doing and excellend job of usuing the bathroom. Normal & occasional accidents.
• Emotional Issues: Usually stable. Does well with using words and talking about feelings. Can get angry. Needs clear limits.

It's On Now!

Thank you, TopatoCo...











Also check out Not a Doctor. I'm seriously considering ordering a couple of these...

Workin' for a Livin'

Well, I just returned from a three-day business trip to beautiful Austin, TX. The pure nuttiness of a guy like me staying at a downtown Hyatt Regency and presumably networking with a bunch of business demographers reached levels quite probably beyond my ability to explain in detail. so I won't really chance to go down that aspect of the trip at all. I will simply say that Crocodile Dundee moments were indeed in full flower and, while I certainly made the most of the moments I could create for myself...God, business travel is not for me.

I left in a flight early Wednesday morning to spend an afternoon doing "fieldwork" in the city (e.g. checking out location opportunities and noting progress of our stores under construction and those of our competitors). In a wonderful city, I was pretty much reduced to spending the entire day flying around from one nameless, faceless center of big-box commerce to the next. It would have been hard for me to tell I was in suburbian Austin, rather than suburbian Minneapolis, were it not for the towering, unbelievable overpasses that snaked their way around the edge of this rapidly-expanding city. I made sure I was back to the hotel in time for exploring the riverfront trail system via a four-five mile run (very cool!), and then changed and ready for hoofing it across the Commerce Avenue Bridge, just in time to see a few inhabitants exit the largest urban bat cave in the world, and swing into for some authentic Mexican fare along with my first Anchor Steam Lager (review soon to follow).

The next two days, I alternated attending conference seminars & sessions and skipping out on conference-sponsored meal events in the hotel, in favor of pursuing a personal agenda. I squeezed in another run; this time attempting to follow something called the Shoal Creek Greenway based on the directions from this guy who I suspect purposely sent me on a crazy spashing along a concrete girder that ran straight along the middle of a foul, cement-laden waterway until I finally reached an impassable point just before a bridge, from under which shambled a mountain of a bum with hair down to his back and a hump up to his ears. That was the end of that joyride. But upon returning, I did enjoy soaking in an outdoor hot tub with views of the Colorado River and downtown on the other side (it was 45 degrees, so I had the place to myself). Another trip into deep South Austin to eat at a second great Mexican restaurant, and sample a local micro brew (Shiner). I regret slightly that I didn't get a chance to check out the scene on world-famous sixth street, but I was extremely tired and (after meals each night) stuffed. I fell asleep in the room the first night after having just watched the surprisingly good movie, Spanglish; and the second night with a smile on my face, having witnessed the mighty Adam Morrison and Duke's entire starting five reduced to blubbering heaps as a result of their respective exits from this year's NCAA tournament.

Minnesota Blog of the Day!

No, not me, but us, as in Camden Civic Theatre. City Pages picked up Valerie Borey's Good Doctor production journal in their daily Blotter. You can click there, but the actual text is just the brief item below. Not an immense amount of exposure in this snippet, but our promotion of the show has not really begun at all.

MINNESOTA BLOG OF THE DAY
It's not quite like Waiting for Guffman, but you can follow a play from first rehearsal through opening night as the Camden Civic Theatre puts on Neil Simon's The Good Doctor and blogs about it.

Dude, Where's My Party?

This really sums it up quite nicely...

Thanks to Ward Sutton, progressive rag cartoonist...

Only in the City...(and Happy St. Patrick's Day)

A St. Patrick's Day that was wonderful and again wonderful.

Sharon & Lucy came to pick me up at work just before noon. We swung out and got a bite to eat, and then it was over to the Landmark Center in St. Paul, where the Irish Music & Dance Association was hosting their 25th annual St. Patrick's Day festival. It was a great event, except for initially finding parking (St. Patty's Day is like a mini Mardi Gras in that city, which has deep Irish roots). We walked around & saw various vendors & artisans, passed on the $4.00 a stadium cup-Harp Lagers (not sure if I would have even bit on a better, traditional Irish beer at that price in a cup like that, but for sure not a Harp), but got by far the most enjoyment out of the Irish dances & music. I couldn't believe how fired up I was during these live performances; the energy, rhythm, and fun festive atmosphere was absolutely infectious.

There was one particular moment in a traditional music set when a bodhrán (that goatskin drum with the little dumbell-like mallet) player suddenly set down his instrument and flew to the middle of the stage to engage in a flurry of dance steps that grew increasingly intense until the crowd was brought to cheers, whistles, and nearly to its feet. We also saw some kids performing from one of the (more than one, apparently) Irish dancing schools in the area (pictured). A lot of fun, too, making me wish at that moment I had some sort of single or double generational ethnic heritage to flout at such an event, rather than my stinking "date back to the 17th century on both sides" -bull shit lineage I'm stuck with.

Lucy was tired to begin with and started fading & getting grumpy. Though I did not imbibe at the festival, I was driven to the point of needing a drink by the time I got home. Luckily, I picked up a six pack of (much, much better than Harp) Smithwick's Irish Ale earlier this week. Sorry I don't have a review up yet, it's coming soon. Lucy & Sharon both hit the sack shortly after supper, then I went out by myself for phase two of "Only in the City," as I walked a few blocks south and listened to a small jazz combo play at Camden Coffee Company for one of their increasingly trendy and attended Friday music nights.

I've never been a big fan of jazz, having always felt it was a bit inaccessible and lacked general "musical progression." All I can say now is that three or four live performances I have seen have opened my eyes. The piano player in this group is a regular there that with whom I'm somewhat acquainted. During tonight's break, he kind of broke it down for me finally, explaining that the beginning and end of the song establish the melody and are pretty much reproduced as written, and then there's essentially just tablature in between; root notes or chords around which you just take turns improvising and jamming. Where pop music makes me think of places, people, moods, events, & stories, jazz just makes me think of color and of waveforms. It's almost like the inside of my head turns into one of those "vizualizations" in a computer's media player. I just relax, chill out, and get into it. A great closure to a great holiday, and another reminder of how deep in me the hooks of the urban life have truly set. Could I/would I give it up? I would like to think I could, but I think I'm beginning to believe more and more that such a decision is not something I will come to through sitting on a pinnacle of stone, or by checking out stacks of books, or through hours of endless internal debate. It will come to me, if it is meant to be, and I come to a place in my life where I am compelled to migrate. But there is no hurry.

Doh!

What kind of moron schedules a blood donation on the morning of St. Patrick's Day?

Quick Thinking!

I brought my new library book in and began reading it over my lunch hour. When I was ready to get back to work, I suddenly realized I had not brought along a bookmark to hold my place. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a piece of paper, ripped off a strip, hastily wrote "Coretta Scott King" on it, and jammed it in. Disaster averted!

About Us

Photos & biographies up on the Camden Civic Theatre website. There have also been a lot of other improvements to the site, if you want to poke around for a minute.

I'd also like to take some space to mention our Get Involved section, where you can be a patron of the arts of sorts and make a tax-deductible contribution to CCT. The case for dollar support for our company is the community-building work we are doing; even though we live in the most theatre-rich city in the nation (measured by companies per population), we will be the only theatre company operating in the modest, blue-collar borough of Camden. You can read more about the mision here.

I realize, though that the community-building aspect of our organization does not affect the majority of your own local communities, which have their own needs; so I understand if you feel the case it not totally there to inspire your volunteer dollars. However, if you live too far away to reasonably be expected to attend a performance, but would otherwise like to support us, consider picking up some stylish Camden Civic Theatre gear at Cafe Press.

End of Feb. Resolution Check-In

A few days late here, but I'm still intending to hold myself accountable on a monthly basis to my goals for 2006.

Future: Residence Issue Resolved
Unbeknownst to Blogging Nation, we had almost decided to reverse course and make the decision to stay in our current house (barring Zephyr) for the rest of our lives. A sudden turn of events (future addition of child), as well as some recent financial figurings (namely, how our monthly house payment plus monthly home improvement loans would equal the cost of an upgrade in house/neighborhood, anyway) has made me make one, last desperate reverse course. If I can get Sharon on board, I'm hoping the time crunch of her pregnancy could launch me into a focused "get the house in selling condition" mode. Definitely "top of mind;" hopefully I'll have something to report next check-in.

Health: Be on regular cardiovascular schedule AND be eating right/in moderation.
Christ, this was going so well, before a crazy one-two combination of events derailed me: First, I decided to do a detoxification program that required me to not do any strenuous exercise for a couple of weeks. About a week in, though, we hit this crazy set of circumstances with my cat which caused me to leave work a lot over the course of a few weeks. My regular "running at lunch" schedule was thrown totally off track, as was my diet (stress-related). I'm pretty sure that I'm more full of toxins than I was before the detox. Need to get back to business on this.

Art: Finish Secret Of HIM.
As it turns out, my involvement with Camden Civic Theatre, in preparation for our inagural production, has demanded a lot of my time & energy. Back to the old situation of no energy and/or time left for recording. I do have the energy to at least noodle around on guitar, and I'm planning to do a totally solo show (my first ever "official" show of that sort) sometime in April or early May. Not necessarily on track for this resolution, but if I'm sacrificing one arena of art to make progress in another, I don't consider that a total failure.

Wow-I'm not exactly having total success with my resolutions...

OK, So I Was Never any Good at Keeping Secrets, Anyway

Sharon & I are expecting our second child. In almost identical circumstances to those surrounding Lucy, the pregnancy was unexpected but entirely welcome and cause for celebration.

I almost think it was some sort of combination of the various money stresses of the past number of months, and all the other stresses on my mind (courtesy of the Year of Big Decisions), combined with the sudden wash of joy; but the moment at which she showed me the little indicator on the home pregnancy test (99% accuracy rate), I just started laughing. I couldn't stop. She started trying to ask me why I was laughing and then she started laughing, too. Lucy came wandering in, wondering why her momma & daddy were laughing, laughing, laughing and locked in an embrace; then she started laughing, too and asked to be picked up and held between us. A wonderful moment. Sure to be on the Short List for "Best Moment of 2006," though almost assured of not being the Best Moment.

Ah, new life! I'm a Grade-A Cynic; but for me, bringing a new life into the world is the greatest expression of optimism I can possibly imagine. Optimism not only that I can add someone to the world that will do it more good than harm, but also optimism that we face a world worth living in. It's a crazy, sometimes messed-up and frustrating little world we live in, with seemingly no end of disappointment, cruelty, and suffering. But it is an extraordinary, wild, wide, and wonderful world too, with love, beauty, laughter, and curiosity enough to bring you pleasure, were you to be able to live a thousand lifetimes. All the things that make life worth living: the "spices of life." I love them and the experience of sharing them with my daughter brings me such joy I want to jump around and explode. And I can't wait to let someone else in on all the fun!!!

May I Fix Your Car?

The Longest Pee

My poor cat!

So, following the surgery, Saraki is not supposed to use traditional cat litter while she still has her stitches in because of the dust factor. We were instructed to use shredded paper instead, and told that she would be able to make the adjustment.

On day one after her last return from the clinic (Sunday night), she peed on an old dog bed we had placed under the couch, where she had immediately retired, in an effort to be alone for awhile after all the stress. We attributed that somewhat to grogginess and confusion, and a little to the discomfort of trying to make her way all the way over to one of the shredded paper stations we had put out for her. The vet had also told us that there was a chance she might protest the change in litter in a couple of instances, but assured us that she would get with the program shortly thereafter.

From that point on, though, things became, "The Great Squeaky Pee Hunt." We could find no further evidence of pee in the house. There was nothing in the shredded paper litters. Ditto on the floor mats in the entryways. There was no way she could get upstairs or downstairs; those cat-holes were sealed off, tight. There were really only three rooms we left accessible to her, and we just couldn't find a thing. I was certain she had found some nook or cranny we were overlooking, but Sharon was convinced that we would have been able to smell something after two days stretched into three days and then finally on to a fourth day.

Finally, yesterday on the way home from work, Sharon picked up a new kind of litter made of recycled newspaper processed into little pebble-sized balls, called "Yesterday's News." Fresh, clean, and much like The Squeak's traditional litter, except completely dust-free and safe for her use. We got out the old litter pan, cleaned it up good, and poured in a luxurious four-inch carpet of the new stuff. Sharon set Sqeaker right in the center, where she proceeded to pee for at least 45 seconds. It was immediately followed by a crap of the size that would have made a golden retriever proud. Good Lord, but that's a stubborn cat.

More Local Activism: My Letter to the Mayor

Unlike my mayor, I intend to follow through on the promise I make at the bottom of the letter...

Dear Mr. Rybak,

Ordinarily I would not have assumed that you would be the contact point about development plans of the old Kowalski's building at 44th Ave & Humboldt Ave N; with it being a single, freestanding retail location. However, like many of my Camden neighbors, I was quite encouraged by a piece of campaign literature only days before the November election promising a "focus on redeveloping the Kowalsk's site."

Well, in calls to your office prior to the election and leading up until yesterday, I have been unable to find anyone in your office that is even familiar with the building in question, much less someone who has any idea of any specific work you are doing with respect to the property. Indeed, in a conversation with someone in your office yesterday, I was told that, as mayor, you would have absolutely no involvement with any change of ownership or future development at the site. I can assure you, this is an issue of great importance to us up here. The neighborhoods of Lind-Bohanon, Webber Camden, Victory, and Shingle Creek Neighborhoods are at a crossroads and we consider the survival of retail at that corner to be critical to the vitality of our community.

I'm not sure whether you've really got something in the works and I'm just not talking to the right people in your office, or whether you made an empty promise in a last-ditch effort to scrape up a few extra votes from gullible Northsiders, but I'm desperate to believe the former. Please convince me you're involved in this project and/or why you made this promise at election time, or I will most definitely put a lot of energy into turning this apparent deception and lack of follow-through into a real issue via local publications and at neighborhood organizations with which I'm involved.

Regards,

Dan Hylton
Lind-Bohanon, Camden

Brokeback Mountain: 5 Stars

Lost in the shuffle: post Saraki amputation and pre-diagnosis with heart failure, Sharon & I had our late Valentine's date Friday night. Dinner at the recently reopened Udupi Cafe (yay!), and a viewing of the much ballyhooed and booed, staple of light night talk show monologue move, Brokeback Mountain.

I though I'd heard, going in, the whole "gay thing" was secondary to the plot, which is a love story. I totally must have misheard that. In anything approaching mainstream cinema, I realize now we're probably about twenty years out yet from something like that; and the subject was right out, front and center.

Ang Lee, the director, did a really interesting and quite amazing thing thing in Brokeback: he placed this scene about 15 minutes in that just assaults your sensitivities, even if it's something you think you're prepared for. I couldn't help but to squirm in the ever-so slightly uncomfortable way and exlaim a low, "whoa..." After that, I think the movie kind of says, "Are you still with me? Good..." It's like it just wanted to say, "I think I know what you're afraid of, so let me just throw this at you, so we can just get it out in the open and you don't have to be wondering in the back of your mind what's going to happen, when." From that point on, the movie becomes one of the (choose to believe it or not) most accurrately portrayed Westerns I have ever seen, as well as an incredible, beautiful, heart-rending love story. It is also, maybe, the best acted movie I have ever seen. I can't specifically recall any better. I cannot recommend it enough.

On a side note: these cowboys in this movie are badasses. T-Clog would love almost everything about the Heath Ledger character. He's just like a young Woodrow Call, except he gets fucked up the butt.

New Links

A couple of new blog links to the right:
- Stephen's From the Edge to Center: Stephen being, again, the dude who tracked me down after 16 or some odd years to find that we both had some interest in what was going on in one anothers' lives. Check in to see what books he's discussing and what cool pictures he has taken to document his latest doings down in Iowa City and beyond. Welcome, Stephen!
- The Good Doctor: Also from a recent post, this is the spring production of Camden Civic Theatre. Valerie, a founding member of the fledgling CCT, a profilic blogger, & wonderful writer, will be posting regular updates to chronicle not only the technical steps, but the thought processes of our company as we throw together our inagural production. Of course I'll still be sure to catch major happenings for this play, as they relate to me, within this forum. Welcome, Valerie and CCT company members!

Home & Stable

Before...



and After...


head tucked in to the right, spot of missing leg is obvious, and
adhesive pain patch on her back

As the title indicates, her condition stabilized; to the point where we were able to bring her home today. We will keep her on a medication called Lasix which is intended to keep fluid out of her heart and lungs. In talking with a number of folks over the past day, there's few people out there who have not had their lives touched in some way by someone (human, that is) who has suffered congential heart failure. In addition to putting things in perspective (dearly though we love our cat), it also confirmed-if there are to be assumed any similarities between human & feline cases-what the vet has been telling us, which is that the success of this type of treatment varies wildly.

What I stated in my last post is what we're going to hold to, here. We simply want her be relaxed and comfortable, regardless of whether she has two weeks or two years (less than two years and it would be real, real hard to find a silver lining). As you can see in the second photo, she is relaxed and comfortable. So far so good.

Somebody Up There Hates My Pets...Or Me, Part 3

So, in the roller coaster of news concerning my cat, she started having labored breathing with a kind of rattley sound last night and, concerned, Sharon ran her back in at about 3 am. First they found that she had fluid in her lungs and later, after having confined her to an oxygen tent and running myriad tests, determined she is experiencing congestive heart failure; probably due to the physiological stress her body has undergone over the past few days.

She's responding to some treatment they're giving her in order to relieve the lung fluid, but it remains to be seen how she will respond to heart medication. She could live from a few days to a couple of years, depending on how manageable is the condition. Looking back, we can't see a single point where we've misstepped in terms of getting her treated. Nevertheless, we're once again faced with a pet that's experiencing an insanely unfair and untimely set of life-shortening health issues. The omnipresent realization, also, is that we're into this a dollar amount which, like the national deficit, has exceeded our capacity to even plan paying, and is into the realm of numbers better wrangled by astronomers and geologists.

What we're wishing for at this point is that she can return home at least be with us until she has the chance to heal from the discomfort of her surgery and be able to have a period of leisure & relaxation before the end.

Of course, that is trusting to hope, which has long since forsaken these lands.

My Cat She's Got Three Legs and Other News

The surgery went well, though we won't find out until later today whether Saraki is ready to come home. We're to keep her from jumping for a couple of weeks (quite a challenge-how are we supposed to make all elevated horizontal surfaces in our house inaccessible?), and keep her only on the main level of our house. Cats traditionally adjust very well to being amputees, and we'll make sure that she gets back into her routine of lounging & luxuriating as seamlessly as possible. Pictures will follow in the next few days.

We've been under a lot of stress. Tonight we're finally getting around to our Valentine's Day night away from home. We'll be going to our favorite restaurant, Udupi Cafe, which is recently remodeled, I guess; and then heading to a performance of "Raisin in the Sun" at the Alchemy Theater. Members in my theatre company are all going to check out this play and compare notes on what is regarded as a community-based theatre company that really took off and did things the right way.

On a side note, we have landed on a spring production: Neil Simon's "The Good Doctor." Those who have followed my acting career since my early days may recall that Round Town Players took on this play in 1989, with five or six cast members taking on all 20-25 roles in the play. We feel like it's an ideal play as a premier show for our company for a number of reasons, from flexibility it gives us in cast & technical considerations, to the publicity benefit of Neil Simon-name recognition. But mostly, it's a fast-paced, hilarious play with a style of humor that we feel will be accessbile and well-received by a Camden audience. Company members, our troupe de facto leader has informed us that we more or less can pick and choose what roles we wish to play, rather than having to go through an audition process. It's a kind of weird feeling, like I will have not earned the part. But, despite the practice being new to me, I guess it's standard in groups like ours for the company members to take the main roles, then have open audition for the rest. Certainly, there will be more to follow on all this in the next couple months as things heat up, and eventually, we're going to have updates here.

Interesting Topic Brewing, There...Let's Post It

First off, I should mention, it's full-steam ahead with Plan A. Everything checked out OK (with the exception of the cancerous tumor, of course), and The Squeak should be fine for the surgery. Within 24 hours, you'll be talking to a guy with a three-legged cat.

But back to the topic that was taking legs in the previous post's comments: I'm not sure whether I really do seem to run into a tremendous number of ridiculous challenges, or whether I just have a little too much of the "woe is me" syndrome. What do you think? Certainly, we all have our own crosses to bear. I've never been one to bear mine in a manner uncharacteristic with anything else I do...in silence.

I will also add this-if my blog makes me come across as a Sad Guy, then it is misrepresenting me. I am a guy with very high highs, but I definitely hit bumps in the road. I was thinking about the "money doesn't buy happiness" quote the other day, and thinking of a very ironic & kind of funny thing: for me, it just might. I look at the various things in my life, from my personal relationships to my interests, and I see nothing but things that bring me joy (or, net joy, anyway). The only thing that ever gets in the way is when I run into one of my little, frequent financial setbacks. Then I start worrying about whether we're going to be able to pull of the move we're contemplating, get out of this debt in which we've been trapped for years, etc. etc. I suppose it might be more accurate to say that I'm happy but I don't have a ton of peace of mind. But again, it's only with the money thing that there's no peace of mind.

I'm sure it's true that if you're just a bastard and/or miserable and surrounded by a lot of other miserable bastards, money is not going to fix everything. But to think that having more money to pay the bills wouldn't make a happy person all the more happy-well, whoever made the quote really should have stuck an asterisk at the end.

Somebody Up There Hates My Pets, Or Me Part 2

Goodbye tax return, indeed. In the immortal words of Nick the Dick, "...and then some."

We consulted with the Veterinary Oncologist today: the most personable, easy-going health practicioner I have ever encountered, though that is neither here nor there. We will be proceeding to do a number of tests tomorrow to determine (to the best of technology's ability) whether the cancer is isolated in Saraki's back leg, or has reached other parts of her body. "Prognosis A," which is more likely , is if it is localized in the leg. We then will submit her to a battery of tests, then amputate the leg on Thursday. Final bill: about $3,500.
"Prognosis B," is...well, I'm not going to go down the road of Prognosis B unless I have to. We're just hoping we aren't looking at "Somebody Up There Hates My Pets, Or Me Part 3 which, given our history, wouldn't be all that surprising despite our current optimism.

Christ, our optimistism is reduced to spending $3,500 and chopping off the leg our our cat. Somebody up there really hates my pets, or me.

Steve! (or is it "Stephen" now?)

So, less than a week ago, I checked the obsolete-but-still-operational email at Pat_and_Dan@yahoo.com. I direct most of my music related "business" through my "hylton44" presence, but there are still a few contact points for the old musical duo out there in the w.w.w., not the least of which is the Pat and Dan website. I'm only in there sporadically now, and then usually just to clean out the overflowing spam folder and sift through a few various unsigned band venture invitations that probably belong in the spam folder.

In this particular visit, however, was a "hey guys" message from an old high school friend that tracked either Pat or me (or both of us) down and was interested in seeing what we were up to. I got back to him and we had a little exchange in which we filled each other in a general overview of our 17-odd years since high school and 15-odd years since our last contact. Though it may have been of some interest that I carried a then-bourgeoning music interest into a lifelong pursuit and recently found myself back into the arena of theatre (we both acted in high school plays "back in the day"), I think what was probably most amazing to Steve was that I still carried with me a group of some of my closest associations from my high school days: Pat M, Pat G, and Cory L.

What I found, both in our emails, and when I reversed the role of investigator and checked out Steve's blog (is it Stephen now?), is that his experience since high school is remarkably similar to my own. Not many, or nearly any, of the actual events (he taught English in Japan for three years, then later returned and got a masters degree in literature, I think from the University of Iowa), but kind of in the overall "personal journey" sort of way. In his post regarding the intial overture, he refers to the earlier, high school version of himself as the "stupid version," one that he resisted coming face to face with. It was a sentiment with which I could totally identify. As many of my closest friends of these days can attest, my own journey from this earlier version of myself has been so long and crazy that I truly feel like I don't even know who that old verison of Dan was. Of course, I needed for him to exist to get here, and yaya yada, but that doesn't mean that I look back on those years with comfort or pride. In fact, one of my greatest goals in life is to try to prepare my daughter to take that introspective journey about seven to eight years earlier than I did.

So, it was refreshing to have a voice from the past announce that he, too, has arrived at some kind of destination, if maybe by a different route, and is now waving to me from far off, atop his own mountaintop. That is, as opposed to some sort of creepy reminder of a past I'd rather forget (like, say, an insane publication put together by a desperate, former homecoming queen wannabe trying to assemble a "where are they now?" guide arriving in my mailbox). So, hi Steve! (Stephen?)

As an aside, I see that Steve checked in on my last post; great to see, not only in that maybe there is some sort of re-establishment of our relationship, but also because it ups my readership by a significant percentage. Though I can't guarantee a constant string of comments, I will start checking in on his blog, as well. Maybe the next time Steve is in the Twin Cities, we can hook up for a visit, beer, and/or bad movie and some pizza.

River Gift, Not Answer: The Lessons of PrairyErth

Around a week ago, I finished up what was an extraordinary journey for me: the reading of PrairyErth, by William Least Heat-Moon. As I stated in a post last summer, this was the best work of nonfiction I have ever read, bar none. For more about the content of the book, read my earlier post or information at Amazon. But to summarize my experience once more, the read was deeply philosohpical, reflective, meditative, introspective and mind-blowing, and I can't recommend it enough.

In the final chapter, he is walking with a friend very near the end of his time researching the book and he is asked,

"Did you find the answers you were looking for?"

His response, a life-altering:

"I found a place that was willing to reveal itself to me."

I just love that.

It's No Jumanji Window, But...

My Johari Window.

Please visit and contribute your perspective.

Thanks in advance, and thanks, Amanda.

Somebody Up There Doesn't Like My Pets, or Me

Our cat, Saraki (aka Squeaky) has a cancerous tumor in her leg.

The last month and a half since Kuna-i's passing have been kind of a honeymoon period for us with our cat. We've been able to give her all kinds of attention and love, without the burden of a high-needs dog diverting all of our time and energy. She has responded by "luxuriating" and spending lots of time on laps, in beds, and/or in front of heat sources. It's been really nice. In this sense of newfound companionship, Sharon remarked to Squeaky a couple of days ago, "I hope you live a long, long time." That, unfortunately, was the morning of the day when Sharon discovered a large lump in her hind leg.

Still unknown as yet how advanced the condition is. The only thing we know for sure is that we're going to be out probably multiple thousands of dollars before the situation is resolved, for better or worse. With Kuna-i, there was always overriding knowledge that we were throwing money towards treatment of a dog that was declining and losing quality of life at a rate that would finally overtake our ability to keep up. With Saraki, there is really no debate: her quality of life has been pretty much top-notch. If there is a way to completely rid her body of this cancer, we've got to try. Doesn't mean we've got to love the expense of it, but simply that we've got to absorb it, somehow. Our first step is an appointment with an veterinary oncologist at the U of M early next week. Goodbye tax return.