*My* word of the day: chatoyant

Dictionary.com: –adjective. 1. changing in luster or color: chatoyant silk. 2. Jewelry. reflecting a single streat of light when cut in a cabochon. -noun. Jewelry. a cabochon-cut gemstone having this reflected streak, as a chrysoberyl cat's-eye

Webster's: to shine like a cat's eye: having a changeable luster or color with an undulating narrow band of white light

Happy birthday to me. Thanks, Ange.
I am SO pegged as a cat lady... a
shout out to Milo, Cooper, Huey,
Moochie and up front Ink and Spot.

Word of the day

Palinopsia (Greek: palin for "again" and opsia for "seeing") is a visual disturbance that causes images to persist to some extent even after their corresponding stimulus has left. These images are known as afterimages and occur in persons with normal vision. However, a person with palinopsia experiences them to a significantly greater degree, to the point where they become difficult or impossible to ignore. This often results in mild to severe anxiety and/or depression (Source: wikipedia) (a true medical condition)

Oh nooooooooooo here we go again. I’m just sayin’… I thought she left …

Eleven degrees outside. Over leftover New Year's corn beef and a spot of eggs, Harry tells me about rabbits, hunting, Amish, the WPA having men build a brick road in downtown Winamac that's still there, how their folks lost their farm but came back, truck gardening, and heavy hens. Driving'
around, he came across a farm sale, friends of his, where the daughter was just selling off everything, including the animals. So six heavy hens he bought, and they threw the two roosters in, too. He knows how to cook them. A heavy hen is a hen that has stopped laying and in farm life, you know what's next. In the preparing, some had very soft eggs in them. This gave me pause but snapped me back to the moment. Here I am, still cluckin' around, accumulating ideas and dreams and aiming to get out from under the cluckin' clutter. Picture: stolen from the ether.

Waisted.

Once I was a locavore, so perhaps I shall be again. West Sixth Street, Bloomington. Twenty-degree bedroom in the winter, and a forlorn gospel church just off the top of the backyard. Carrots, peas, asparagus, sunflowers. Ah, I realize yet again, I miss my waist!

Smells like teen spirit

Or as Bernie said, smells like something, all right.

April Winchell has vastly expanded our Nirvana covers collection. Go, Erdmöbel! Links are hers...

Erdmöbel (5.5 MB)
Opium Jukebox (9.77 MB)
Lullaby Version (5.07 MB)
Ituana (5.93 MB)
386DX (1.6 MB)
Abigail (3 MB)
Dokaka (3.2 MB)
Gregorian Chant (3.5 MB)
Paul Anka (2.5 MB)
Polka Version (3.5 MB)
Ragnar Bjarnason (1.6 MB)
Rumal Noorkuu (3.1 MB)
Scala (3.9 MB)
Smells Like Electro (3.5 MB) B
Smells Like Teen Booty (Soulwax) (3.1 MB)
String Quartet (3.6 MB)
The Bad Plus (5.2 MB)
Espiritu Adolescente by Mandragora Tango Orchestra (unreleased demo) (5.3 MB)
Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain (2.4 MB)
Weird Al (3.4 MB) Still the best

I love my new mino.



But I have to work on my voice. And my steadiness.
We have rain, we have lemons, we have guard cacti...

Go Forth and Rebuke
From the Chron' social column (Garchik) today, someone "...was flying on Southwest Airlines from Salt Lake City to Oakland with a passenger who was extremely loud and rude to not only fellow travelers, but 'also a very patient male flight attendant.' Near the end of the flight, when this was particularly noticeable and annoying, another woman aboard stood up and told her she was the most rude person she had ever met, and then, 'Stop, stop stop!!! In the name of the angel Michael, I rebuke the demon in you!' It was a showstopper and the woman kept quiet for the rest of the flight, 'while the rest of us cowered in our seats." Heh. So I now have a phrase I can use with Bob, but no more than once a month, he says.

Cakes Gone Wrong, Continued

Thanks to the New York Times for sweetening my afternoon, with a slide show (lifted from another blog) about cakes gone wrong. Herewith, my own purloined contribution, from the Indiana State Fair. Sad woman with green hair.

Brittle. I was feeling brittle, now a bit more resilient. Went to the Young Scandinavians House and stayed over the weekend, in Lake Tahoe. Met several folks, including a Swedish diplomat and his wife. He once worked in a shampoo factory and one liquid went into all of the same bottles: whether for dry hair, normal. He was livid and funny. They were all friends, but though I was on the fringe I didn't mind. There was snow. Plus Christine and I convinced ourselves that hiking 5 miles at 900o feet in the high wind was a good thing. I didn't have the right clothes, wrapped tee shirts around my neck and looked silly. Oh well.