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!