problem solved
six hours later, the mole damage is a lot less noticeable.
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March 30, 2003
finally, a war for the rest of us
a lot of the snow has melted from our front yard (only to be covered later today, i fear, by the 6-10" of snow the weather report is promising). every warm and sunny day, the crust receded a little bit. yesterday the melt revealed utter devastation at the hands of the wily and brutal terrorist organization, mole qaeda.
it's much worse this year than it has been in springs past. last summer i went on the warpath and did everything i could to reduce the population of grubs, the moles' favorite plump and wriggly snack. i dug up the rosebushes, which harbor japanese beetles (which is what grubs become when they grow up, if they drink their milk and eat allll their grass roots). i impregnated the ground with milky spore, a bacterium that likes nothing better than to invade grubs and digest them from within. (can you tell i have a taste for grub death at this point?) and i treated the lawn with grub poison. this should tell you how determined i was; i almost never use poisons or insecticides in the yard.
my theory is that some of what i did is working. it looks like the moles have had to hunt much harder for grub snacks. unfortunately, until they get the message that the salad bar is closed, i fear i'm in for more furrows. last year i asked mom what she did about moles in her lawn. she said, "i walk around the yard, stomping down their burrows, feeling diabolical."
get me my mud boots. operation stomp and awe is about to begin. if it doesn't work, that's okay; i'll just say it was tommy franks' plan all along.
exhibit a
exhibit b
exhibit c, a closeup of the view in picture b. it looks like the moles used a goddamn rototiller.
March 29, 2003
the core
last night, in need of a diversion, paul and i combed the papers in search of a movie that would suck. it would have to suck in a very particular way: afterward, there must be no question that it blowed up real good.
the core sufficed nicely.
according to the times,
The film is frequently hilarious — occasionally, but not often, on purpose. For the most part, it is monumentally dumb.
according to paul, marveling at the clumsily drawn characters, "someone must have really hated carl sagan."
according to me, "it blowed up real good. and stupidly."
it's just like any sci fi exploration movie you've ever seen: the carefully diverse crew takes on an impossible mission from which they surely cannot return alive. only...you know someone will: the plucky heroine and the tousled, stubbly hero.
the only suspense comes in trying to guess which order the supporting players will get picked off in, and the entertaining manner in which they'll meet their cheesy doom -- in this case, impaled by a mineral spike and dipped in nacho cheese (excuse me: lava); crushed inside a jettisoned compartment, garbage-compactor style; fried to a crisp in a space suit that's apparently not rated for 9,000 degrees; and, well, blowed up real good in a nuke-you-lar explosion. (our protagonist, a low-rent harrison ford type if ever there was one, can't pronounce "nuclear" correctly. but if the guy in charge of destroying the world can't, why should we care if the guy in charge of saving the world can't?)
as if all this weren't bad enough, throw in hollywood's idea of a teenage hacker, the gratuitous trashing of the antiquities of rome, and the rescue of our intrepid crew by a pod of friendly orca whales. mix well. and knock it all back with an audible shudder.
ahhhh. the rich taste of sucking.
March 28, 2003
all systems go
houston, we have spring bulb action.
yesterday in the front beds, where the crust of snow has receded a bit from the house, i saw some tender green foliage poking up right where i planted a host of golden daffodils.
then in the other bed, i saw some of the tulips i inherited. the maple tree in the back is red with new buds. the lilac bush, which i grievously murdered last year, has promising-looking shoots. even the new viburnum appears to at least want to live.
i'd take a picture of the radiant wonder that is spring in my yard, but you'd only be sickened by the thick carpet of fall leaves i've yet to rake up.
March 26, 2003
bet it's good with freedom fries
georgia's tax dollars at work:
Sweet Tea May Be the Law in Georgia
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
ATLANTA (AP) -- For some Georgia lawmakers, a meal wouldn't be complete without sweet tea. Now they could put that into law.
Rep. John Noel, D-Atlanta, and four co-sponsors filed a bill Tuesday that would make it a misdemeanor ``of a high and aggravated nature'' not to offer sweet tea in any Georgia restaurant that serves iced tea.
Noel acknowledged the bill was an attempt to bring a little humor to the Legislature. But he said he wouldn't mind if it became law.
Under the bill, restaurants could still serve unsweetened tea, but must serve sweet tea as well. The proposed bill specifies the tea must be sweetened when it is brewed.
Misdemeanors can carry a sentence of up to 12 months in jail.
Noel got the idea when he wasn't able to order sweet tea at a restaurant in Chicago. It wasn't on the menu.
ladies and gentlemen, ari fleischer.
in salon:
Cheney even went on to throw out the possibility that Baghdad would fall without any fighting. "I can't say with certainty that there will be no battle for Baghdad," he said. "We have to be prepared for that possibility."
Asked about Cheney's rather optimistic remarks on Tuesday afternoon, White House press secretary Ari Fleischer said that "the vice president said what he said because he had reason -- good reason -- to say it."
Does that mean that the White House still thinks that the Republican Guard will abandon ship?
"I assure you, the vice president does not say things lightly," Fleischer said. "So when the vice president says something like that, he has good reason to say it, and to think it and, therefore, to say it."
Ah.
do not disturb
he's disturbed enough already.
March 25, 2003
culture clash
from the guardian:
A few miles from the bridge to the south lie the ruins of the ancient city of Ur, founded 8,000 years ago, the birth place of Abraham and a flourishing metropolis at a time when the inhabitants of north-west Europe were still walking round in animal skins.
Sgt Sprague, from White Sulphur Springs in West Virginia, passed it on his way north, but he never knew it was there.
"I've been all the way through this desert from Basra to here and I ain't seen one shopping mall or fast food restaurant," he said. "These people got nothing. Even in a little town like ours of twenty five hundred people you got a McDonald's at one end and a Hardee's at the other."
it's the goddamn cradle of civilization. you'd think they'd at least have a taco bell.
long walk, short bridge
i like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.
— noel coward
March 24, 2003
who needs oil of olay?
you see, i am very stupid. i don't understand or talk well. i take it easy every day. i am like an idiot. be like this every day, and then you'll look young.
— chinese movie star chow yun-fat
orange you glad?
all hail mom and betty, who worked like teamsters painting my living room during their visit. (well, okay, not like teamsters, because they actually got things done.) i couldn't be happier with how it's turned out, or more grateful for the help. thanks so much! this week i hope to spend some time doing touch-ups and painting the woodwork, which will be semi-gloss white.
three of the four walls are off-white, and the fourth wall, the longest one, is cinnamon.
all right, it's orange.
and it's gorgeous.
oh, so that's why i can't sleep.
in case you need a diversion from being shocked and awed, consider this list of things that are scarier than saddam hussein.
March 22, 2003
when life gives you lemons...
so a couple of days ago aunt betty told me this story.
when she was ill and living at my grandparents' house, she rarely felt like eating or drinking anything. sometimes she'd eat, you know, half a piece of toast and a single strip of bacon and be full. (anyone who knows us can imagine how sick you'd have to be for that to be true!)
once she asked for a glass of pink lemonade. my grandmother kindly got it for her, and betty took a sip.
it was hummingbird nectar.
as we all agreed, the funny thing was that my grandmother probably would have drunk the whole glass...and claimed to have loved it.
March 17, 2003
you want fries with that?
WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU IMBECILES THINKING? THIS IS THE ONE OF THE MOST MORONIC ATTEMPTS AT PATRIOTIC CORRECTNESS I HAVE EVER SEEN! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES, YOU IGNORANT, CONTEMPTUOUS, XENOPHOBIC WASTRELS. Thank you.
— Democratic Underground on the "freedom fries" fiasco
March 15, 2003
flyguy
use the arrows on your keyboard to move the guy around, and see what happens when he runs into things.
March 14, 2003
cradle 2 the grave
do you like action movies that set your heart racing with adrenaline?
...fight scenes that take your breath away with their balletic grace?
...characters who seem real, people you can identify with and root for?
...an engrossing story that makes two hours pass in the blink of an eye?
then avoid cradle 2 the grave like a smallpox-tainted blanket.
it wasn't jet li's wooden acting or ridiculous nouveau bruce li haircut. it wasn't the eye-rolling implausibility of the plot (if you could actually call it that). it wasn't the butchered editing job that robbed the fight scenes of every last nanoparticle of excitement.
okay, okay, it was all those things. but it was also the sappy save-the-big-eyed-child angle. it was the super-suave gang of international scumbags, all with healthy white american teeth and good tailors. it was the soundtrack that featured as its stirring love theme a moving little ditty called "nigga please."
but wait! there's more! two words: tom arnold.
how could i pick just one reason to hate it?
update: i forgot to mention the part where jet li picks up a midget and uses him as a cudgel.
yes, really.
poetry corner
i haven't been writing much on my own, so here's a poem by someone else to tide you over.
The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer
I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.
I have planted by the stars in defiance of the experts,
and tilled somewhat by incantation and by singing,
and reaped, as I knew, by luck and Heaven’s favor,
in spite of the best advice. If I have been caught
so often laughing at funerals, that was because
I knew the dead were already slipping away,
preparing for a comeback, and can I ?
And if at weddings I have gritted and gnashed
my teeth, it was because I knew where the bridegroom
had sunk his manhood, and knew it would not
be resurrected by a piece of cake. “Dance” they told me
and I stood still, and while they stood
quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
“Pray” they said, and I laughed, covering myself
in the earth’s brightnesses, and then stole off gray
into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.
When they said “I know that my Redeemer liveth,”
I told them “He’s dead.” And when they told me
“God is dead,” I answered “He goes fishing every day
in the Kentucky River. I see Him often.”
When they asked me would I like to contribute
I said no, and when they had collected
more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.
When they asked me to join them I wouldn’t
and then went off by myself and did more
than they would have asked. “Well, then” they said
“go and organize the International Brotherhood
of Contraries,” I said “Did you finish killing
everybody who was against peace?” So be it.
Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don’t know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.
— Wendell Berry
March 11, 2003
bad cat
no wonder there's cat hair all over the clean clothes.
March 10, 2003
hey, that's my glove!
March 09, 2003
first day of college, 1989
"with enough ketchup, you can eat anything."
last night i caught up again with my best friend from college, matt lerner. he's the only person from miami that i'm still in touch with, in fact, and he's by far the most worthwhile person i knew then. (if you get one true friend out of every four years of life, i'd say you're doing pretty well indeed.)
matt's living in san francisco now after a two-year trip around the world. visit his travelogue if you need a quick escape to nepal, botswana, yemen, and beyond. travel broadened him, not that he was ever that narrow. speaking of chickens, a brief excerpt:
That night, we camped in Lilongwe, Malawi's capital. A chicken made himself at home on top of our tent (pictured below). In the morning, the chicken was gone, but he left us a present. It was not an egg.
i credit matt almost entirely for our move to vermont (not to mention my diploma, as he was the only one of my friends who actively encouraged studying). we were sitting in golden unicorn in manhattan's chinatown in 2000 when he was in town for a business trip. over dim sum, he told me he was planning this trip. "why?" i asked him. "you're doing so well at [insert recognizable name of dot-com boom company here]."
what he said made an enormous impact on me: "why would i want to wait for things to turn to shit before i fulfill a dream? why not leave on a high note?"
that's what he did, and that's what we did. why wait, indeed?
March 08, 2003
the egg wreath i bought
betty, i swear it's really cool.
i think it'll go in the dining room, though perhaps it'll hang at the end of the hall so you can see it from the front entry.
why i love paul, continued
we were sitting in the theater at the bellagio waiting to see cirque du soleil's o. there were about 3,000 people there, so there was a lot of conversation taking place before the show began. gradually the buzz hushed as people around the theater began noticing the two clowns who'd come out without fanfare to begin their act.
so there are these two clowns, moving around the theater, finding leaks in the theater ceiling, sprinkling audience members with water, just generally doing the clown thing. but quietly. i admired the way they began the show; it was an organic way to shut people up and set a mood without blinking the lights or being intrusive.
except the people behind paul and me would not stop talking. they'd been fueled by a few beers and were nursing a few more, and were whooping it up, oblivious to the fact that the show had started. finally the theater was fairly quiet except for this group -- they truly didn't notice that everyone else had stopped talking and there were performers (several now) moving among the audience.
so paul turned around and said, "the show's started. can you please stop talking?" he was polite, i swear to god.
except one of the guys behind him decided to be offended rather than, you know, embarrassed like he should have been. "no, it hasn't. it's not 7:30 yet," the guy said indignantly. "my ticket says the show starts at 7:30."
paul paused, thought for a second, and said calmly to the guy, "what are you going to believe? your eyes or your watch?"
March 07, 2003
dangerously cheesy
mmmm, giant cheeto.
March 03, 2003
nickels from heaven
today i won $37 in nickels. mink coats for all my friends.
a very short review of delmonico
i just ate an entire cow.
March 01, 2003
viva las vegas
in case you want to play along at home, here's the rough itinerary for our las vegas trip:
sunday
drive to burlington way too early. board plane. fly through the air with the greatest of ease. land in chicago. sprint through o'hare like o.j. (minus the wife-killing). board another plane. eat peanuts, kick the back of the seat of the person in front of me who insists on reclining. land in las vegas around noon.
check into our hotel, the aladdin. admire its gigantic bathtub and in-room high-speed internet access. feel like a dork for doing so.
dine at delmonico. correction: gorge at delmonico.
sleep it off.
monday
maybe a little shopping, certainly a little nickel-losing, and definitely a lot of people-watching.
dine at nobu. mm, fish. in the desert.
tuesday
there go more nickels, right down the toilet. perhaps a visit to the liberace museum, where they think he wasn't gay. and who knows? we might go all out and splurge on a nap.
wednesday
tour hoover dam.
run out of nickels entirely. spend some time unsuccessfully begging on the street. return dejectedly to hotel room and order the cheapest item available from the room service menu.
thursday
see sunday, in reverse.
i guess "the old ball and chain" was too long to fit
seen today on a license plate:
it may intrigue you to know that the car in question was being driven by a burly guy who looked a hell of a lot like kenny rogers.
it's genetic
paraphrasing from a conversation with betty this morning:
"i asked mama how their new microwave was doing. she said it was fine, but that she'd only recently figured out how to use it on any other setting besides popcorn. if she wanted to reheat last night's chicken, she'd just set it to four popcorns."