Thursday, July 13, 2017

Saturday, July 08, 2017

You're a Piece of Firework

Mark and I took an evening dog walk yesterday in a different direction than usual. We walked past the one other house we seriously contemplated buying when we bought the one we still live in. That was eighteen years ago. and today it's clear that our house is much prettier, our yard is prettier, our house is more aesthetically pleasing. The advantage #2 house has is it's on a nicer street. But if we lived there we wouldn't hear as many firetrucks going past with their sirens blaring the loudest, middle-of-the-intersection blare, and thus get to hear our dogs howl ridiculously in response. Which is one of my favorite things.

We walked past a newish restaurant and a new coffee shop that's supposed to open in the next couple of months. And then a new deli-type place that's also opening soon. It's a real renaissance out here in the Oakdale/Rosemont/USM neighborhood these days!

When we were nearly home, we heard a firecracker that made us jump and sent Clover into a nervous crouch. She's learned over the last couple of weeks that she really really really hates and is deeply fearful of sounds that make her think the world is coming to an end, i.e. fireworks. And someone in our neighborhood apparently has a collection of loud-popping noisemakers that they light off at slow intervals for hours every night. Among other things, this means that Clover has been too scared to go outside and pee after about 7:30 PM. So anyway, as we were walking home, we heard the firecracker party get started, and Mark followed the sound to confront the person. By "confront," I mean he asked the guy (the father of a young child, as it turned out) how many he had left and how long he planned to be making loud nightly noises. The guy was very apologetic. And we didn't hear any more terrifying sounds last night.

After years of wondering what smells so good when I walk past my neighbors' shady garden, I finally figured it out. It's astilbe! I was weeding in my own little garden, and I smelled the heavenly smell, and put my nose in some feathery white astilbe, and there it was. I need to plant more of that stuff.

It's not one of those flowers that only smells good when you stick your nose in it. It perfumes the air around it.

Thursday, July 06, 2017

Worst blorger ever

I didn't even manage a Rabbit rabbit blerg post this month. This is going to be a real test of my superstitious/borderline OCD (not Borderline/OCD, I just mean verging on OCD) personality issues, since Rabbit rabbit (the saying, photographing, posting of it on the first day of the month, first thing in the morning) is one of my magic spells for happy living.

Holy crap, would you get a load of those strawberries?!

My neighbor gave me a pint of strawberries! She "picked too many," have you ever heard of such a thing? Zucchini, yes. Chard, sure. But strawberries?

They are so. Good. My immediate thought was "a dollop of whipped cream and you've got a healthy, balanced dinner, all the food groups basically represented!"


The Handmaid's Tale on Hulu. Tell me if you don't cry out in a tremulous American voice at some point, "Canada."

GLOW if you want something smart and funny. You'll never recognize Trudy from Mad Men.

Vietnamese iced coffee from CÔNG TỬ BỘT (when they open. Sometime next weekish, I think).

Flowers, especially if you can pick em in your own back yard or by the side of the road.

Lady's mantle, cosmos, chamomile, coreopsis, astilbe, bachelor's button.

Saturday, April 29, 2017

I should use this thing more

Wonderful article about Maira Kalman.


Here is a really pretty new Sufjan song, from a forthcoming planet-themed album that five year old Zoë would've been super excited about.

Spring, supposedly. Although I have not put away my winter coat yet.

Goals: bring back blogging. Make Oakdale a thing. Eat more vegetables. Train my puppy to do impressive tricks.

Last night we were watching basketball* and Clover was on the couch with us. She is extremely dubious of the TV and also of the sportsball-cheering noises Mark makes from time to time. At one point there was excitement on the TV and simultaneously Mark dropped his phone. Clover sat up, alarmed, and made this googly-eyed face like a cartoon dog with its eyes going BOI-OI-OING! It was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time.

*I watch basketball less like an anthropologist than I used to. I like it because Mark likes it and especially because Isaac does (I also love the backstories about players, their hard luck origins or brothers on rival teams or young children or love of god or good works, etc). I didn't grow up in a sports** home, though, so it's weird and unfamiliar. Although there was a brief flurry of enthusiasm for major league baseball when my parents lived in Saint Louis. And I remember my dad once studying sports scores, teams, etc, so that he would be able to speak that language at work. I'm under the impression that he gave up on it fairly early in the process.

**Possibly related: none of the men in my life would ever dream of manspreading. NEVER. It's impossible to even picture it. Although some of them would absolutely mansplain.

Saturday, April 01, 2017