the ghost of turkeys past...

i have very very fond memories of turkey days... especially those i experienced while living in san francisco. you say, "turkey", i say "gay men" and "boston market".

my first roomates were steven, sam, buttons, frisbee and monster. *insert obligatory flashback shimmer here* that's me, in the living room of that apt where the guy just urinated on the stoop. i'm the hill of blankets on that futon covered in cats. the guy wearing the yellow monkey fur? that's sam. the guy wearing the plaid lumberjack robe and a sunflower scrunchie in his hair... that's steven.

for thanksgiving, it was our tradition to attend dinner at a fabulously decorated home owned by a sparkling gay man and then get wasted drunk somewhere in the castro, only to awaken seemingly decoupaged to our beds.

this year was like all the others. we were post feast, rolling each other down the hills, picking up random revelers in our wake. i remember we started the night at the Cafe, then we ended up at another bar, the Pendulum, i think... and then...

well, then all i remember was waking up, cheek to sticky floor of another bar. i vaguely remember steven, vertical, laughing so hysterically that he skipped away. and then, sam helping me into a cab and climbing in after me, his body shuddering in his failed efforts to repress his rolling cachinnations - in my haze, i realized "sam is a canary jell-o hellion come alive".

i'll spare you the details of the moronic emergency room visit.... suffice to say, the golfball on my forehead (from the doorstop that cushioned my fall) finally disappeared a few days later.

so, what does all of this have to do with boston market? um, nothing really - well, i guess the common denominator is the consumption of big dead birds and another non native sf holiday tradition.

so, i lived with steven and sam for only a few months (we did share a ravaged bird or two and anonymous vats of liquor again, later in my sf years) then, i flew the coop and got my own nest in the tenderloin and lived near another bird named elena, my greek born, british bred, closeted virgin, chain smoking, newcastle drinking, private investigator, next door neighbor, and dearest beloved friend.

elena and i (the all-inclusive holiday feasters) celebrated ye olde turkey massacre with the other pseudo homeless, shower deprived and unidentified but charming masses at boston market. i know - who woulda thunk that anything - especially a boston market - would be open on thanksgiving? well, apparently all the dregs of humanity on polk street knew the 411 on the BM (boston market, not... oh, nevermind). then, it was off to "the castle" for pints, chips and unruly behavior (including cheating at darts) with random boys.

come to think of it, we also celebrated christmas at BM but we'd bring some imported english crackers (as in - poof! STREAMERS! yay! not - salty. crumby. yucky.) with us - we caused quite a stir... oh yes, we did.

these are my little memories... *sigh*, *head tilt*. i should stop now or i'll break into song and we just can't have that.

anyway, i hope you had a lovely holiday and that as you raised fork (or spork) to mouth you realized that you (like me) had and were something to be thankful for.

wouldn't it be weird if blogging women cycled at the same time?

(my ol' bike, named "ajax", from electra ...)

but i'm not talking about uni-, bi-, tri- or motor-. i have cycles on the brain, gentle reader...

i was just thinking about when i worked at an art gallery and all four of us realized one freakish day that we were all cycling at the same time. (yep, i'm talking about "the curse", "aunt flo", my "friend".)

i think it's because of the charting. the temp taking, the... um, gathering of input material for... nevermind. it's supposed to be this useful tool in predicting when i am at my most fecund (love that word. so pre-raphaelite. so jessica rabbit).

it's supposed to help me take charge of my fertility! so far, it's bearing a stronger resemblance to a useless extra screw from a bookcase which has more control over me than i have of it. but that's a subject for another unread post.

anyway, according to my chart, i'm just another day or so away from my "rose parade". i really want to be optimistic since i recently had so much sex that i thought i sprained my hair. i had optimal cervical fluid. it was right before ovulation. my temperature is up. yada yada yada - all that good stuff. but i can only remain in denial for so long - the cramping is too obvious and my devouring chocolate is so obscene, it borders on the pornographic. oh, and i can't stop snapping my husband's head off when he says "hi".

ok, stream of pms consciousness shift here - so, i read somewhere that a pregnant woman carrying a daughter is also carrying her grandchild since every female fetus contains all the eggs the newborn child will have. how cool is that?! well, ok, i can accept that i'm the only one who thinks it's very cool.

i really want to have another child. i want my daughter to have a sibling. i really would like my husband to have a son. i know there's always adoption. it's an option that we were open to long ago. but, i LOVED being pregnant. i actually miss it.

anyway, i'm going to bed now if only to apologize profusely to my wonderful husband. it's weird though how an apology can feel so commonplace now, and maybe useless in a way, like teaching a turtle how to fetch.

is it a lamb? is it a purse?

after my daughter was born (on 03/03/03) my cousin, wyndee, sent this as a gift. now, my daughter is old enough to appreciate it. she loves this little guy. well, we're talking about the same child who has a fond attachment to my husband's shoe horn.


view #1


view #2



view #3 (wtf?!)


anyway, somewhere in a factory in china, there's someone laughing hysterically in quality control.

i dedicate this post to you! i applaud you! :') signed, former garment industry slave.

cookie monster? chicagoland resident...

warning - you may want to shoo your sesame street fanatics outta the room...

ok. are they gone?

i just don't want to burst any "big-bird-is-real" bubbles. (well, of COURSE, big bird is real, sweetie!!!)

i should preface this by saying - i am a HUGE sesame street fan. well, more muppet show than sesame street, but you know what i mean... so, i was recently informed that a friend of mine is friends with a sesame street muppeteer. AND not only, does she KNOW a muppeteer. she was allowed BEHIND the scenes at sesame street during a recent visit to nyc. (you suck, meemers - but thanks for my hot (as in, stolen) bowling shoes.) she actually got to meet many of the voices behind the muppets including the voice of elmo, kevin clash (who also did the voice for baby sinclair on the 80s prime time show, "dinosaurs").

this encouraged me to google sesame street in hopes of finding my own way into "the inner sanctum" (lotta good that did me - nada, zip, zilch, gornischt). anyway, i came upon an intesting factoid...

cookie monster is an illinois resident! :) *doing the roger rabbit* that's right! we have john cusack, oprah AND cookie monster. CHICAGO ROCKS! nee nar nee nar nee nar....

anyway, listen to the chicago public radio interview with david rudman here . david rudman is also the voice of baby bear and strangely, the fingerman from the ziploc bag commercials. don't remember that guy? count yourself in the "haves".

in conclusion, a) i have to somehow beg, cheat or steal my way into sesame street. and b) i have GOT to see that show avenue q on broadway. (the story (told with puppets and former/current muppeteers!!!) of a nyc newbie, his hood - avenue q - and its eclectic collection of neighbors, including gary coleman as the bldgs super.) the reviews have been great, not to mention the nod (three tony awards, including best musical) from the theatre community. c) i have to get off my *ss & rescue my daughter from the foreign madness that is lazy town.

nigella, so close and yet so far...

years ago, i actually took cooking lessons - really expensive, intensive, you-might-as-well-be-attending-culinary-school-with-the-amount-of-time-&-money-you're-spending-on-a-few-weeks-of-lessons - from Tante Marie in san francisco. if you're looking for basic cooking lessons - i highly recommend this school and its classes.

anywho... of the many things i gleaned (i love that word) from my steamy, spicey, aromatic time at the cooking class - the rejuvenating quality of lemongrass soup , sell your organs for a set of good knives, honey + bourbon + carrots = yum! - i was introduced to the recipes of Nigella Lawson.

she truly is the domestic goddess i wants ta be when i grows up and grows up and grows up. and if i were a guy, i wouldn't kick her outta bed either. it's very complex, my love for nigella, who just happens to be on a book tour and just happenned to visit this midwestern hamlet this past weekend... *sigh*

i patiently waited a full hour (just an hour?) for nigella. in that hour, i moved five feet - MAYBE. (the above pic was taken on the sly, as close as i could get without getting hauled away and with a zoom lens) but her new book, which i shoulda bought (but i could not stand in another line!), Feast, is filled with her wonderful comforting recipes dressed in her comedy and wit. i do have her earlier book, How To Eat, which is underlined, dogeared, stained with soy sauce and oily now. i have yet to attempt her "white-trash (how un-PC!) lunch for 6" which includes ham in coca-cola, parsley potatoes, snow peas and young peas and cherry pie. but, the easy peasy carbonara recipe is awesome!

anyway, nigella, wherever you are, you truly inspire me, but there was no way i was missing a dinner at NoMi - even for you. stalking will resume from afar....

four words.

the amazing race six

if you haven't seen this show. you have got to watch it tonight! tivo, if you must! it's a two hour season premiere. this is the best reality show on TV. i don't watch reality show really, but this one hooked me from season one. for you TAR fans - did you guys hear that old teams would be running commentary this season? i don't know how i feel about flo's whine echoing thru my house.

>:(

oh yeah, i've heard a rumor that TAR6 actually started here in chicago. i can't believe i missed them!!!!

...i am yarn-less...

and so begins another quest for another creative process... anyone got a writing excercise just lying around?

i've seen one circulating on the blogs - something about grabbing a book and opening to page 23 and quoting the fifth sentence. hello, john irving. hello, john wheelwright.

"It was a stone church, and there was a ground floor or even underground mustiness to the place, which was overcrowded with dark wood bric-a-brac, somber with dull organ pipes, garish with confused configurations of stained glass - through which not a single branch of tree was visible." (ok, so that was the sixth sentence. the fifth sentence smelled like feet and *ss. )

i saw another one on the Ellis Paul discussion forum that looked interesting:

1) Name your character-- Do you use the real name, just their first name, or something suggestive that perhaps adds some anonymity, or color to the story... Your choice, but be careful, you don't want someone to get mad at you...

2) Describe five items in the persons bedroom. what do these items tell you about the character? How old is the character? what does he like to do? How does he live?

3) The Character looks into a mirror, what does he see? name five things... what do these things show us about the character? how does he take care of his appearance. Is he proud of himself? Shy? Disappointed? Where is his ego?

4) Assign the character two colors... colors literally paint a scene or a person... you might only use a color in passing, but it helps create mood and understanding. what do these suggest?

5) assign the character a non human twin... this creates a metaphor, for the person-- solid as an oak tree-- wise as an owl... that type of thing-- don't be afraid of feeling like you are reaching when writing this one down, you can disguise and smarten it up when you frame it in a sentence or song lyric... so it looks less like Disney when it's edited...

6) Give your character a voice-- what does he sound like-- what might he say? what does this reveal about your character?

ok, so that's a start - in the meantime, i really am looking for plus d'excercises d'écriture.

so, share the wealth already.

thank you for reading my blog, all of you anonymous blog explosion readers!

i really just wanted to say thank you - i appreciate you taking the time (personally, i can do many things in 30 sec - due to a program that auto-installs when you have a child) to stop and read my pointless, misspelled & grammatically challenged blather...

i'm new to the blog phenomena, blogger and especially new to blog explosion and it's sparkle*y accessories. i just noticed (when i clicked on basically everything you could possibly click on) that 3 people voted favorably for this, my humble blog, and that two readers have actually blogmarked me. so, THANKS! :) oh, and where ARE my manners?!

HI! howareya!? *waving to screen* i'll talkatcha soon!

things i would want for christmas if i was still 7 years old.

"...Includes recipes from: Rick Bayless, Mark Bittman, Erik Blauberg, Flo Braker, Clare Crespo, Tom Douglas, Rob Feenie, Bobby Flay, Gale Gand, Eleni Gianopolous, Martin Howard, Mollie Katzen, David Lebovitz, Emily Luchetti, Alice Medrich, Mary Sue Milliken, Cindy Pawlcyn, Caprial Pence, Guillermo Pernot, Colette Peters, Anne Quatrano, Amy Scherber, Rob Seideman, Art Smith, Walter Staib, Sherry Yard..."

"...eatery has over 40 funky pieces, including chairs, a revolving sushi table, chopsticks, and a karaoke stage with mike..."


"....VOICE FX technology allows action figures to not only shout commands and talk, but it also causes realistic facial movements of the characters...."

who am i kidding? i still want this stuff at 32. and i still have toys from my childhood that i hide from my child.

there are 1,440 minutes in a 24 hour day. i have already thought of myself as a horrible mother once today - only 1,439 times to go.

beastie boys! scratch and sniff.

by the end of the weekend (beastie boys, hideout, bowling), coats were getting aired out all over the house. my poor lungs - i feel like i was wearing them outside, scarf-like.

speaking of which... of the many high points from the beastie boys show i can include - my fake burberry scarf (it's a souvenir from my honemoon in venice) getting dissed, drinking "wine-from-a-box" brand vino @ $6.50/dixie cup and NOT getting carded >:( but despite these petit snafus- the beastie boys (showing a teeny tiny itty bitty little age) r o c k e d.

if you haven't seen this show - by all means, do yourself a favor and get your rheumatic fanny to whatever large impersonal arena is hosting this circus NOW (no, i can't translate this into italian, sorry). if you like vegas show dogs, the bass turned up and the beatbox in your chest cavity, your favorite arcade game playing on large concert screens, ruffle tuxedo shirts and the familiar garage screenprint tee - you will like this show. it's excessive and anthemic and yet, you'll feel right at home.

here's a link to their blog featuring the set list and comments - unforunately, no comments from the boys about the chicago show - http://www.beastieboys.com/blog.php?&page=4

and lastly, to the unknown lovely girl who was sitting next to me who was going in for chemo treatments the following day- BIG WARM HUGS - can't stop thinking about you! to the tall jerks who nicked the seats in front of me - a UTI on your bachelor pad! to S - thank you for reminding me that even though i feel (and probably look) 40 - i'm still in my early 30s and more than overly qualified to shake my old school *ss with the p.y.t.

knitting palooza!!!

i actually made something!!!

i am a knitting fiend. if i can't hear the scritch scritch of graphite on cold press bristol board i guess the clicking of metal (yuck) knitting needles will have to suffice. would you buy this scarf from me? or here's another prop - if you buy the yarn, i will make you a scarf. i'll post a pic of the another one i'm finishing later. i need to visit ye olde art supply store... oh, creative process, you are the butch to my femme.

to shower or to blog? that is the question.

...i can't believe i'm sitting here typing.


a severed hand - realistic, no?

my little pets here turned out to be the hit of the front porch yesterday. so glad the postman doesn't deliver on sundays. he would've had my head on a plate - he's a very surly & unpredictable man, the neighborhood postal worker...

well, my display of 288 spiders really didn't look all that impressive. you'd think that 288 spiders would prove to be a daunting obstacle course (yeah, they're fake. but their shiny, black, eight legged, heebie jeebie creepie crawlie-ness is evident nonetheless).

the littlest kids were only slightly freaked out (due to the ratio of LARGE dad to tiny spider). it seemed they were more disturbed by the bloody severed hand (mwahahahahahaha!) than the spiders. so, i'll have to saunter off into the halloween sunset and retool my plague scenario for next year.

the wierd thing is that in the light of this morning it looks as if i have fewer than 288 spiders. which could mean many (ok, 3.) things:

1) kids have absconded with my spiders
2) birds and squirrels have absconded with my spiders
3) the spiders are actually real and were shipped to me in a state of suspended animation. during the night, they woke up and are eagerly awaiting my bidding (they owe me since i cut off their rings - the shackle of indentured servitude to some high school goth wannabe) somewhere in the deep dark recesses of the house.

please Lord, let my plastic ringless minions be hungry and make them eat all the freakin' infidel ants!