Driving home from our morning outings, Joe and I heard what I think is a new New Order song on The Buzz. I could be wrong, of course--I don't have every New Order album--but the song did play during a rotation of new music.
I Googled New Order and found this site, but I'm not sure if it's the official New Order website. Apparently, they do have a new album set for release in March (Yes, they do plan on touring North America this time.), and as a bonus, it looks like they wrote a song for Joe to listen to in a decade or so when his first girlfriend breaks up with him.
Saturday, February 26, 2005 Punch Pony, Red--No Hit Backs!
As Joe, Bill, and I enjoyed our small pepperoni and small gourmet white pizzas at the Mellow Mushroom, we watched the Friday evening rush hour traffic on University Avenue creep past the window and noticed something strange: The Ford Mustangs in town seem to have exploded in population. We counted at least twenty ponies representing different model years, but noticed that most seemed to be last year's body style.
There's a simple explanation, of course. With the release of the new, gorgeousdesign--which I do plan to test drive--the dealers wanted to clear their lots of the old bodies. So, parents seeking a good deal on a car their kids wouldn't complain about driving sent their babies off to college in an Americanclassic. The same thing happened in 1993, and it's how I ended up driving around my first few years in Gainesville in an outdated 'stanger. Of course, it was my boyfriend's (His parents traded in their van for two Mustangs--they were so cheap at the lot-clearing prices--and Jamie was a little lazy, so I drove us everywhere in his white LX hatchback, but I didn't mind since I love to drive. I keep a little Neal Cassady, the Great American Driver and Cocksman, alive inside me.), but it was my second Mustang. My folks gave me my Dad's royal blue convertible pony (the devil with a blue dress on, as my Dad called her in homage to one of his favorite songs) on my 18th birthday. Oh, how I loved that car; I annoyed my friends by walking around, jingling my keys whenever I wasn't seated behind her steering wheel. However, like many gifts of my youth, I didn't get to keep her. Still, I was fortunate to be able to drive--and I mean drive (I once ended up sliding ass-backwards into a parking lot after spinning out on taking a slick corner too fast)--a Mustang in my early 20's, and so are these kids.
It's a good thing Bill and I don't hit each other (especially in front of Joe), 'cause my arm would be black and blue from adapting the punch-buggy game. I think Bill might be a little sad that there are now more ponies than buggies to spy. At least we're doing ourpart to keep the original game in play. Do you get to punch twice if it's a Super Beetle?
Wednesday, February 23, 2005 Giddy as a School Girl
Violator Album Cover, via Amazon.comAt a coworker's good-bye-so-long-wretched-apartment party a couple of weekends ago, I had a pleasurable conversation with one of the PhDs visiting our lab from Germany, in which he told me that he heard Depeche Mode was touring in Europe. I, in turn, just about wet my pants jumping for joy. For, as we both concluded, this meant that they would surely be coming to the States again soon.
Upon checking their site, I learned that they are now working on a new album:
Well it's about time... post date: January 12th, 2005 The band will start work on the new album on Monday, January 17th, with Ben Hillier at the controls. Stay tuned. More news to follow in the coming weeks.
Depeche Mode is my all-time favorite band, and has been for an extremely long time. I swear I remember listening to them on the radio while playing cars in the basement with my older brother when we lived in Iowa (Although, on checking the discography, my memory's timeline doesn't quite match up with reality's.), and I credit "People Are People" as forming my open-minded, progressive weltanschauung at a very young age. (Do I even need to mention their impact on my perverse nature? Violator did come out when I was a horney high schooler.)
Bill took me to see DM when they came to Tampa in 2001 on the Exciter tour, which was my first stadium concert ever--at age 26. (Jebus, I've lived a sheltered life.) Needless to say, the show was phenomenal. If you've ever heard DM 101, you know their heavily synthesized music translates remarkably well to a live format, indicating what awesome musicians they, especiallyMartin Gore and Dave Gahan, are.
When your toddler wants to "help" you garden, nothing's more preoccupying than a hose. Joe has discovered he loves to water plants and wash the cars--and get soaking wet in the process.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005 Another Light Blown Out
Update: When I first learned of Thompson's suicide, the reason I was "stunned" was because he'd made it this long without shooting himself or overdosing accidentally. So, I couldn't understand why he'd kill himself now. Well, apparently he was in tremendous pain--physically.
I received the text of this Rolling Stonearticle by Thompson in an email a few months ago. It's a great read if you have time.
I don't even know what to say about the suicide issue; I'm stunned. Although, Bill says, "If anyone was gonna shoot himself, it was that crazy motherf**ker." Chalk it up to the artist's curse--the price of genius is psychological torture.
Saturday, February 19, 2005 I Never Knew I Had So Many Freckles
Scissors Postcard AdI had planned on posting only the ads (more will come out next month) that came out of the serendipitous worst haircut ever incident, but I didn't realize they'd give me a bunch of unused prints as well. So, for my Mom's sake, I'm posting them here. Okay, okay--it's for my sake, too.
Comment away, please. I only ask that you remember I was the model, not the stylist and that I have an extremely fragile ego. (Yes, the depth of my vanity is surpassed--by a long distance--by my insecurities.)
Click the links. Or, if you have no time, at least scroll over the links and read the URL displayed in your status bar so that you get the point, joke, etc.
Turn on your speakers. Many of my links are sound clips, and I wouldn't want you to miss out on all the fun.
Read the comments. I've noticed that some people seem to stop by just long enough to see if there's a new post, but what they don't realize is that I've been writing in the comments threads. (Hint: Check out the comments on my last post.)
Give feedback. Let me know how I'm doing by commenting or dropping me an email. Commenting on the topics is fine (please make sure you read the articles and links first, though), but I'd rather hear from y'all about style and usage. This blog, after all, is my pencil sharpener.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005 "Perfection Is a Direction, Not a Destination"
Newsweek Cover, Feb. 21, 2005 via MSNBC...said the leader of the worship service last Sunday, and as usual, something in the weekly message (read: sermon) was reinforced a few days later.
I just picked up the mail a few hours ago. On the cover of Newsweek, a Shiva-armed woman holds the symbols of "good" motherhood and smiles warmly at me, as if she has found peace by realizing "The Myth of the Perfect Mother."
After reading this article, I'm buoyed by the fact that I'm not alone in my maternal anxiety:
...70 percent of American moms say they find motherhood today "incredibly stressful." Thirty percent of mothers of young children reportedly suffer from depression. Nine hundred and nine women in Texas recently told researchers they find taking care of their kids about as much fun as cleaning their house, slightly less pleasurable than cooking, and a whole lot less enjoyable than watching TV.
I'm also gleefully (and a bit guiltily) feeling extremely fortunate to have a husband industrious enough to work at home, enabling me to work part-time with a boss (and coworkers) who adore my kid and don't mind when I bring him to the lab. (They apparently love the distraction of plodding little footsteps and giggles in the hallway. He brightens everyone's day, I'm told.) In addition, Bill is in no way a "useless" father. In fact, I often think he's the better parent in our household, and he gives me a solid base on which to anchor myself.
The most important lesson I've learned as a mother is that I am no good to anyone, especially my son, if I neglect myself. The mild depression I've experienced (but not articulated here) the past few weeks is lifting now--perhaps because I've returned to a weekly exercise program, which always helps balance my moods, after a month-long cycle of family illnesses prevented me from leaving Joseph in any kind of group child care. I sincerely hope mothers in worse positions than I can begin to find some kind of balance in the insanity that is 21st Century motherhood. Not that I'm a role model to anyone, mind you. I've always been nutty; motherhood just makes me feel more guilty about it and more dedicated to improving myself.
E.J. Dionne, Jr.'s WaPo editorial is just so good today.
More than any of his predecessors, President Bush understands the conventions of journalism and the traditions of political debate. These require that respectful attention be paid to whatever claims the president makes. Journalists who have the temerity to question whether the claims ring true (or whether the numbers add up) can count on being pummeled as liberal ideologues, even when they are only seeking the facts. ... What's particularly ingenious about the administration's approach is that it throws out so many questionable claims at once that its opponents are left fuming, furious, sputtering -- and easily dismissed as "Bush haters." First the administration understates how much long-term borrowing its Social Security privatization plan will require. Then it claims to have made deep cuts in the deficit when in fact its less-touted tax cut proposals ($1.4 trillion over 10 years) will just ramp the deficit back up again. And you never know on any given day what the new cost estimates of that prescription drug benefit will look like.
Oh, yes, and the administration's "tough" budget doesn't even include the costs of the Social Security plan or the long-term costs of the war in Iraq, let alone the huge costs of permanently fixing the unintended effects of the alternative minimum tax.
As one critic put it, Bush's spending cuts "may grab headlines but will have little impact on the tide of red ink that Bush has ridden since 2001." Bush's budget "will obscure an agenda that is likely to generate ever-larger deficits over the coming decades" and "resembles Swiss cheese -- and the holes may be more interesting than the substance."
Are those the words of a big-spending, Bush-loathing, partisan Democrat? Nope. They come from a budget commentary in the current issue of Business Week, a magazine that can hardly be accused of ultra-leftism. Then there was a description of the Bush budget as "tough talk, but not enough to reassure the world that U.S. public finances are in safe hands." That would be from the Financial Times, another journal free of any taint of Marxism.
...All the pious claims by less candid conservatives that they and their president truly care about the deficit can now be ignored. The whole point (and, yes, this happened in the 1980s, too) is to create deficits, followed by a "crisis," followed by demands for cuts in domestic programs, especially in those "federal outlays" for low-income people.
Provide a verified paper ballot for every vote cast in electronic voting machines;
Set a uniform standard for provisional ballots, so that every qualified voter within the state will know their votes are treated equally and will be counted; and
Require the Federal Election Assistance Commission to issue standards that ensure uniform access to voting machines and election personnel in every community. (From Hillary's email)
I know I haven't written much about politics lately. Frankly, I haven't really been paying much attention. We rid ourselves of our satellite since I felt we were watching too much TV, especially Joe. Therefore, I don't get near as riled up about the jackasses on cable news networks anymore, which makes for a much happier Robin (and Bill).
"What about radio?" you ask. Well, I've been needing a bit more than NPR to wake me in the a.m. these past few weeks, so I've been listening to some great rock and roll instead, which also makes for a much happier Robin (and Bill).
Still, we did manage to catch the "House of Saud" episode of Frontline on PBS last night, which I definitely recommend for those who'd like to learn more (from various points of view) on the relationship between the U.S. and the Saudis, religion and business in the Middle East, and the lives of women under fundamentalist oppression.
Well, actually this link (related to yesterday's sexy post) is to an article on erotic frescoes in Pompeii.
The seven frescoes unveiled on Wednesday also depict lively sexual activity involving numerous partners and perhaps the only female homosexual scene on display in Pompeii. Tourist brochures will refer to the bath as the "Red Light Spa", although they say it was most likely not formally a house of prostitution.
My fave is the frescoe of two guys and a girl. How can something so smutty be so beautiful?
The birds are amassing in Gainesville. With snow and unseasonably cold weather stretching as far south as Atlanta, a Hitchcock-like invasion of robins and cedar waxwings has descended on Alachua County, local ornithologists are reporting. ... As spectacular as the swarms may be, some are watching the migratory invasion with nervous apprehension. Local blueberry growers, for example, have had problems with the yearly visitors eating their crops in the past. Protecting against such swarms, while not a problem now, could become an issue later in the season, some say.
But for now, farmers like Ken Patterson of Island Grove Ag. Products near Hawthorne say they are simply watching the phenomenon, scratching their heads like everyone else.
"It hasn't been like Alfred Hitchcock," Patterson said of attacks on his blueberry operation.
Friday, February 04, 2005 Your Daily Dose of Middle Class Guilt
While Bill and I are all aflutter wondering how we'll pay to send our obviously brilliant son (who can already count to 13 at 26 months!) to a montesorri school, this poor 14-year-old girl in Sudan is worried about her brother selling her off to marry before she can learn to read and write. Damn, it's a wildworld.
I learned a major lesson last night at the ska show: postpartum bladders cannot handle the pogo. Fortunately, the ladies room was nearly empty; unfortunately, I missed one of The Usuals' best songs.
At least I learned my lesson before The Toasters hit the stage. They were simply awesome. I skanked my slightly damp butt off once my bar mate and I found enough room to dance. We had first decided to watch the band at the front of the crowd--big mistake! I've never been so scared at a show in my life. You don't know how tiny you really are until you're surrounded by big guys, pushing against each other and you, chest-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder, bouncing you around like a pingpong ball. It wasn't even a pit, where usually you can at least put your arms out to protect yourself. This was a live sardine can, and even though the guys weren't being violent, I still got hurt by undulating shoulders and elbows meeting my jaw and ribs. Up to the frightening moment when I was pressed so tightly I lost my breath, it was sort-of fun, in an energy-communion kind-of way. Unnerved, I panted my way to the side of the dance floor until my friend could usher me out of the fray and to the back of the bar. I guess we should have known--I mean, the show was billed as the Ska Brawl Tour.
