August 10th, 2005

Hmmm, perhaps I’d better wait a week or two before making another post or you may get whiplash! Or I might raise expectations all out of semblance with sustainability.

It’s summertime. I can tell because I have a sudden longing, and I’m not alone, to make a loud and bouncy mix CD. I haven’t done it yet, but I’m working on it. While I’m waiting, Ministry’s “The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste”, Ozomatli’s eponymous, The Ernies’ “Meson Ray”, Faith No More’s “Epic” and They Might Be Giants have become ensconced in my CD player. While you’re waiting for this year’s mix cd, take a look at my prior works.

A few weeks ago we ate at a Tapas bar called Modesto. It appeals to me because it’s esconced in one of St. Louis’ Italian neighborhoods, known as The Hill. It’s probably one of very few non-Italian restaurants in the neighborhood. The eternal appeal of the underdog and the minority, what’s that about? They had a flamenco dancer on the night we went. The dancer strutted and stamped and turned and swished her red skirts. Sophia enjoyed that. So, I don’t really like black olives, but they brought out this fresh bread and this black olive spread concoction they called tapenade. It was delicious. I scarfed it all. Unapologetically. And then, a couple of weeks ago, I found that my local grocery store makes the stuff out of green instead of black olives. Oh, heaven. Green olive tapenade is so tasty.

It has only taken seven months or so of me being home every day, but now during the days Rorschach sometimes voluntarily comes to sit with me, shows me his belly and mraks at me when I pet him. He has always been primarily Kurt’s cat, not mine, standoffish with me (and everyone else) unless I’m asleep when he tries to make a nest in my hair. Lately this consummate and obsessive groomer (he grooms Sergei and Oz and sometimes licks the top of Kurt’s head raw) has taken to licking my hands or my heels. It is good to be loved.

My husband says I’m amazingly fortunate not to have the new Harry Potter book spoilered yet. He says people all over it are referencing it and giving away major plot points. It’s bound to be another couple of days or so before I get to it, since I just Monday finished reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, savoring each sentence. It’s a wonderful, wonderful book. Everything Neil Gaiman said it was and more. Kurt recommends a palate cleanser between JS&MN and HP&THBP or the latter will likely be a let down. I’m finishing up the Planetary series now, and I may read Scott Pilgrim before I start on Potter.

I wish I had the time and skill to create a series of architectural drawings based on all the houses I live in when I dream. I wonder if it would be any easier with lines than it is with words.

If you have time and patience for poetry, you can read this beautiful, Russian-spirited poem by Yevgeny Yevtushenko, about the London terrorist bombings.

Oh yeah, and echinacea is about as good as a sugar pill for your colds. I was wondering about that, because it’s everywhere and highly touted.

Neil Gaiman is pimping this cool auction, where authors are offering to name some minor character in their next novel after the winning bidder. I have to say, it’d be pretty cool to be a corpse in Stephen King’s next book. And it’s for a good cause!

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