And what a perfect time for it!

The gods are clearly telling me I should follow my heart and become an artist after all. Today I got a friend request from one of my best friends from middle school, whom I lost touch with in high school. This really threw me, in a pleasant way. I never thought she'd care to track me down. And, ta-daa, she's an artist. Somehow not what I would've expected, but what do/did I know. She was always good at drawing.

Coincidentally, this follows my only remaining (10 years ago anyway) high school friend contacting me last week (who now seems to refuse to actually write me back, so, Marie, ?!?!). Who was also friends with Sue, see.

Anyhoo, all THIS follows on my suddenly being surrounded by all kinds of people who make a living as artists of one ilk or another. I never pursued it because — ostensibly anyway — it was assumed there was no living in it for most people, but also because I thought I had no business in the community of real artists who knew how to stretch canvas and mix paint and talk about "media" and "perception" and "Bauhaus" and "crap."

HM.

MOTHER GODDAMNED FUCKERS DID IT AGAIN

Battlestar Galactica: Season 4

ENGLAND:
DVD Release Date: 6 Oct 2008

RRP:	£34.99
Price:	£24.98 & this item Delivered FREE in the UK with Super Saver Delivery. See details and conditions
You Save:	£10.01 (29%)

Why I Like Pudding

So my new and wonderful beau has this awesome blog he just started like 20 minutes ago, which will reveal to you his sheer and utter genius. Meanwhile, same time, I've had zero inspiration whatsoever, since my brain is all taken with the sighing and the dreamingness and the glowing and the whatnot. In fact, I seem to have way less to say to people in general these days. The Great Undercurrent of My Discontent has been knocked out by his awesomeness, I guess, and, huh, apparently that was the source of whatever general entertainingness I flimsily held in my possession.

Or maybe I'd just rather be talking to him than to you.

Pigs! in the Bahamas!

echeng080515_0161945, originally uploaded by echeng.

Cooler than cool.

That said, maybe I'll just feature some photos here.

, originally uploaded by MonkeyPantaloons.

Well.

Been a little while, hasn't it. And probably going to be a while. Till I have inspirations less self-indulgent and still writing-related. I look back on previous months and don't know how you stood it.

There's a boy, see. But he's not for talking about here. He's for me and my heart and my mind.

Lucky you ;)

Caption Contest

Elder Barry Debates Cow, originally uploaded by MonkeyPantaloons.

Click on the photo to go to its Flickr page and give it some lovin', people. Winner will be determined by committee (Jenny and me and maybe others) and win something of slight value by some definition (Jenny's and mine).

Which Goddess are you?

Before you go to this quiz let me tell you that the Japanese must be behind it. You'll see why I say that. It's hard to look at the quiz page, too, because it's bright pink, but I know Ea for one will adore it. (And frankly I was hoping for Ceres!) See the comments for more before you click.

Your Result is: CERES

Goddess of nurturing spirit. Compassionate and sensitive. You value life. A green peace advocate in your own way and a great friend. ;?>



Take Which Goddess are you?

Bread in a can

Barefeet:

that is sort of what i thought the soul looked like when i was a kid

honest to god

Barf and Pens: A Photojournalistic Attempt at Assigning Human Attributes to Nonhuman Markets by Allegorizing Trading-Floor Employees

The first thing to go for Bob was the lips.










Agents experienced a nauseating warping of the space-time continuum when the Dow dipped below 8,000 and took their names away.










"I never should've ordered that trailer for my Eskimo mistress."









Nausea gave way to headaches as agents continued to suffer at the hands of unoriginal photographers with expensive cameras.











"Why are my hands so small! Think what I could have done with bigger hands!"















"You know why this happened, don't you, Peter? Because you wore blue on a Tuesday! You know you always wear the yellow on a Tuesday, and I wear the blue! This is why the Mets never make it to the Big Dance!"














Having lost the retirement savings of everyone he knows, Agent 1224 double-checks on his brain.














"Ramen! I'm never going to be able to eat anything but ramen!"
















944's deepest regret was that he hadn't splurged on way nicer pens.














Because of the Dow, no one noticed when someone pushed his left index finger right into the skull of Jimmy Fallon.

I live in the wrong country.

From here; maybe you saw it (Ea, this one's for you before you depart for northern climes):

Pringles 'are not potato crisps'

Pringles, the popular snack food in a tube, are not potato crisps, a High Court judge has ruled.

Their packaging, "unnatural shape" and the fact that the potato content is less than 50% helped Mr Justice Warren make his crunch decision.

Potato only makes up 42% of the ingredients of Pringles

....

Spud impact

P&G had gone to court to challenge a VAT and Duties Tribunal decision that the Pringle was subject to the standard 17.5% rate of VAT because it was "a potato crisp product", which are, unlike most food, subject to the tax.

But the manufacturer had insisted that their best-selling product was not similar to potato crisps, because of their "mouth melt" taste, "uniform colour" and "regular shape" which "is not found in nature".

It also argued that potato crisps - unlike Pringles - did not contain non-potato flours, and were not packaged in tubes.

Pringles are more like a cake or a biscuit, it claimed, because they are manufactured from dough.

Mr Justice Warren ruled that Pringles were not "made from the potato" - as set out in the definition laid down by the 1994 VAT Act.

....

Taking the biscuit

Separately, the Food and Agricultural Organisation and the World Health Organisation have decided - after seven years of debate - what qualifies as a proper tomato.

The ruling means tomatoes may be round, ribbed, oblong or elongated, or can be cherry tomatoes or cocktail tomatoes. Other characteristics include being clean, whole, fresh in appearance, and free from foreign smells and pests.

Earlier this year the European Court of Justice (ECJ) ruled that the UK Treasury had wrongly imposed VAT on a Marks and Spencer teacake. Customers paid VAT for 20 years before the authorities accepted the product was a cake, which does not command VAT.

Barefeet ‎(2:56 PM):

while we're at it, let's discuss things that rhyme with potato!

Pie chart

thanks to Hawkman for his image-accumulating skillz

Well this is unpleasant.

Yesterday I woke up feeling nauseous, and having eaten out two nights in a row, started to worry. I've hit this point in life where throwing up feels like it's ripping me apart. But it became clear that it was being caused by motion, so it had to be inner ear, and so I felt better.

Then, anyway.

Turns out I have benign positional vertigo. At home yesterday just sitting around, it diminished as the day wore on. Then I rode in a car. This morning again it seemed way better. Then I drove in a car. But now I'm feeling nauseous after just sitting here calmly at my desk for hours.

At least food poisoning would have been releasing me by now.

It has me a little worried for an upcoming trip to Jersey, upon which I am to see the much-missed Ealish and Blake. We'll see. If there were a saint of the inner ear, I'd lay something at his/her shrine.

Then last night I had a teeny adventure. I woke up around 2 and shortly heard squealing outside. I figured it for raccoons. I soon smelled otherwise. So off I went to sleep on the couch, where the smell was about half what lingered in my room.

See? Adventure! And the kitties were all over it. I even liked waking up out there. Maybe the bedroom actually needs to be brighter. Maybe I needed a sleep vacation. *Bonus*: I opened the kitchen window to set some of the odor free, and received the smell of waffles in return!

Now I am smelling hazelnut coffee from Adam's cubewreckle and wanting a cinnamon roll.

Stupid Adam.

Whoa

"The famous photo of Earth from Apollo 17 (Blue Marble) originally had the south pole at the top, as in this view, with the island of Madagascar visible just left of center, and the continent of Africa at its right. However, the image was turned upside-down to fit the traditional view.^{[1]"
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reversed_map)}

Slightly nauseous musing

Though I might just be hungry.

• As Ike was attacking the oil rigs of the Gulf of Mexico, I wondered where the conservatives who claim to know what God is thinking were with their Voices of the Lord. If Katrina was punishment for New Orleans' wanton ways, who was He punishing this time?
  
  
• Has Palin struck anyone as a younger, less qualified, girlified Cheney?
  
  
• Can I have a dollar?
  
  
• This guy on Match IMed me out of the blue by guessing that my screen name might be the same as my AOL address (which I usually try to erase from the Match e-mails but forget to do as time goes on). I should've just blocked/declined the IM, but I didn't, thinking it was Mark under a different screen name. Am I wrong in feeling it was rude or at least presumptuous of him? Like calling someone when they never gave you their phone number? I felt very put on the spot. After a few minutes I bailed and haven't heard from him since. No apologies for making me uncomfortable, which I clearly was, either. In fact I think he claimed cleverness in his deduction. He's well out of my age range, but this is the one case where that struck me as irrelevant. But I'd have expected someone 51 to have better manners.
  

Somebody's EIGHT today!

FOUR somebodies, even. Take a gander at their birthday photos (taken today, aye).
































































































































































While their progenitor hides under a bright blue chair.



HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Otter, Salem, Fathom and Blissypants! And Happy Birthing Day, Rogue-in-bloomers!

Most of us can only dream of such a thing

minuterice ‎(2:44 PM):

i went to the store yesterday and came home to a baby dressed in a diaper, big clunky plastic cinderella shoes, and a adult size cowboy hat

dancing

which consists mostly of spinning and laughing

Leaning toward May 30

If I can get it where I want it. (That's what she said.) Likely problem with Plantations: toilet facilities. I think they set up port-a-potties, and that's a deal-breaker.

If you're wondering about how I landed at these dates (and I know it kept you up last night):

My cousin Erin is having her wedding March 28. So if I want family there, and if I want to go to the wedding myself (might not), both weekends on either side (March 21, April 4) are out. April 12 is Easter. I want my friend Blake there, and sheʼs got a wedding April 18. Sheʼs also having her own 45th bash May 9, which I will go to, and Karla is probably having her 40th on March 14, which I will also go to. This travel of mine and planning needs of theirs affect the timing too.

Plus if people are coming from Florida, and at least 2 are, it'll be a much nicer visit for them in May.

Save the Date

I've been thinking for a couple of weeks now about what I'd like to do for that 40th birthday party. Erin's wedding date really ruins a good 3 weeks' worth of timing (March 21, March 28, April 4) if I want any family to be able to come and if I want to go to the wedding myself. Karla's own 40th party will likely be March 14. Easter is April 12. Blake's heavily involved in a wedding April 18 AND will be having her own 45th bash May 9.

This leaves us with February 28 or getting way later into May.

I think I've ruled out a Big Deal like a masquerade. It just sets up too many expectations that are not likely to come through. In May we could do it at Plantations, which would REALLY be cool. But also risky, because You Never Know With the Weather and All. But it would also be a more appealing time for Florida people to come (and good heavens, I hope someone comes).

Feb. would be nice for the break in the monotony, and because it'll be a little closer to the actual date (March 29).

I had a post all ready to go asking for your vote on what exactly to throw, masquerade or big band, but I think I'm safer going lower-key. The other thing I definitely want to look into is making it an SPCA benefit. Regardless, the SPCA will be recommended to anyone who is considering a gift.

Any thoughts or ideas? Please chime in in the comments so we can all discuss. Essay form is preferred, though multiple choice will be accepted.

Why anyone should move to Buffalo

Some really good reasons right here

Sadness.

I found out today that one of my columnists, Roger Hernandez, died this weekend. I am not even sure what happened. He'd had prostate cancer, but had beat it pretty well, last update I had. Amy told me he was having surgery Friday. The notice says he died in the hospital "after a brief illness." I will find out more as the King people do, I'm sure.

Roger was always such a great guy and really good to me. He was born in Havana and immigrated with his family when he was a boy. I learned a lot about Cuba from him.

I'm weak-legged and broken-hearted today.

ooooo ...

Hm, Deb has helped me start thinking of some really cool ideas. Like holding off till October and having a big masquerade thing (for those into the masquerade, and I think there'd be a good amount of you; everyone else can dress up or down or in the middle as they wish, of course). Making it a big bash but not wedding-related actually opens up some options, methinks.

Drop your ideas in the box here

I want to start figuring out what to do for my 40th. Do I want to be in Florida? Do I want a gigantic, fine-it's-the-only-way-I'll-have-
a-wedding-reception-type party? If the latter, where? Here? Buffalo? My cousin Erin is getting married March 28, which will draw family away from me, THANKS ERIN

(In Annapolis in March OUTSIDE, I must add)

It's Rogue Day, it's Rogue Day

Eight (!) years ago today Rogue and I joined forces, and look at us now. Just look!

We gave our best

But Dustin seems to have faded into the sunset. But don't you fret, y'all. I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadows. Also, I still believe the children are our future. IN ADDITION, no matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity. Because guess where I found the greatest love of all! Inside of me!

It's my pancreas!

Guys.

http://www.originalpancakehouse.com/ph_pancakes.html

---

What are pancakes?
Pancakes are the very old beginnings of bread and pastry. Generally a pancake is any kind of batter, fried or baked in a skillet, on a griddle, or on any hot surface. The peoples of all nationalities have made pancakes from time immemorial.

When should pancakes be eaten?
An infinite variety of pancakes have been developed by the skilled cooks of many nations. Today pancakes are enjoyed for breakfast, luncheon, dinner and even for dessert.

Who are Les Highet and Erma Hueneke?
Les Highet and Erma Hueneke, founders of the Original Pancake House in Portland, Oregon, collected recipes around the world, The pancakes served by this fine restaurant are famous all over the world.

Where did we get our recipes?
All of our Formulas and Recipes are authentic and were selected from many submitted to us by housewives of the nationality originating the pancakes of their respective countries.

What is sourdough yeast?
Old-fashioned sourdough yeast, just like your great grandmother used to use, is used in all our pancake batters. It is grown in our own kitchen from a culture of potatoes, flour and sugar, activated by a "start of yeast". The sourdough yeast gives light, fine-textured pancakes.

What are enzymes?
Enzymes are organic substances created by nature to serve as catalysts and to convert food to energy.

Hey, guys!

I wrote D. today with this:
Dustin? Y'all right there? Should I call the Coast Guard? Maybe I can find a St Bernard to send ... at least a pizza guy ...

And he wrote back, going with the flow of my quiet genius there and talking about St. Bernards and whiskey. Said he'd run into a girl he digs who is unavailable but "vascillatory" and he's been in a funk since. Etc.

Now I feel kinda bad about getting 15 people involved in this, but one day we'll look back on this -- probably our silver anniversary -- and laugh!

Anyway, together we have wrought what I consider to be a fine conclusion, you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and I. You are now free to move about the country.

Also, my lower-end DSL is driving me crazy. What do you all use for your innertubing?

As God as my witness, I will not wear curtains again!

I'm going to write this Dustin person once more. I will not let Loki get the best of me this time. Not while I still have unembarrassing means at my command.

I began with this notion, and wisely (it happens!) waited:
1. Dustin. What happened? Did I say something to offend you?

Hawkman suggested I remove what could put him on the defensive and say instead:
2. Dustin. What happened? Is this one of those "good while it lasted" things, or is there something else going on?

Now I wonder if I should be a bit lighter after all:
3. Hello? You OK? Should I call the Coast Guard? Was it the mittens? God help us, please don't let it be the mittens.

Again.

d. One more day and I'm calling the Ski Patrol. Or Burger King, whichever number I find first.

V. An unholy alliance of two or more

O how I wish Jenny were online this week. But you, I have you, and I NEED you, so please add a comment ringing in with your opinion, please please, you, yes you. Other suggestions are welcome and hoped for. And it'll be especially helpful if you make it a comment; that way, others can see and respond. (You don't have to be a member of Blogger. You can just use your own lovely name, make one up, or be anonymous.)

RUN, YOU FOOLS

Just now I was on my Yahoo! mail, and there was an Orbitz ad at the top. As it flashed away during a delete of Anthropologie, PetsMart and Old Navy e-mails, I noticed what it was advertising: flights from Buffalo to Louisville.

Which I was searching on Orbitz last week.

First Amazon and its oft-annoying recommendations; now ads?!

CRAP. I am telling you, run. Go live in the rain forest! HURRY!

BRING PIE!

minuterice ‎(1:15 PM):

yeah, the internet knows all

ShireMonkey ‎(1:16 PM):

then why doesn't it fucking give me a man?

minuterice ‎(1:16 PM):

it's working in ways you cant see, behind the scenes

somewhere some guy is getting an ad for a bethany right now

Irony Manifest

You know, it seems like every time I try to do something brave, out of the Cree-dinary, Loki sticks out his demigodly foot and laughs as I fall on my face. I present you:

1. Sergio. Did the unthinkable and wrote him after meeting him telling him how much I enjoyed it and would like to get together again. BAM

2. The Cousin (not mine). I shirked my usual shyness and said YES, YES I will walk into a situation that scares the crap out of me and defy my own very self. What happened? He brought his new girlfriend into that situation. Bam BAM

3. After not hearing from Dustin all weekend, thinking there could very well be good reasons for that, still I decided to take the bull by the horns and ask when he was going to come take me out. Following on things HE had said, this was not a completely out-there statement. His two-sentence response ignored that part of the e-mail altogether. (In his days of writing, he has always written copiously. Also lists assertiveness as a turn-on.) Who knows what might have resulted had I just waited out the weekend. BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM

Sigh

I was tired of waiting, though. Waiting on someone else's lead. I always wait. I always follow others' leads. I don't want to anymore.

For Emily's new magazine I'm going to see a couple of psychics in town. I wonder if Loki'll show his stupid face.

I am absolute, hard, concrete proof of gods.

I don't know what to tell you so I'll tell you this

and hope it doesn't suck.

Wednesday night we met John, a biologist of some kind here at the Big Red. The picture he sent gave him to have Robert Redford looks (though not looking like RR specifically), but in person he was more Dave Barry, but skinnier. Which is fine. A little corny sometimes, which might not be, but maybe it was nerves. Pretty good to talk to, and I'm sure we'll get together again. I suspect not relationship material, from my side of things. But it would be cool to be real actual friends with him. His being a supergenius and all.

Meanwhile, I've also been e-mailing Martin, who teaches at U of R in the nursing school. We will talk on the phone soon (he called last night but I missed it). I have a feeling that he could be perfect for Karla. That would be so cool. He's half Colombian and half Italian, and has long black hair. Has had a really interesting life. And why for Karla? His intense cat allergies.

And then there's also Dustin, who is totally rocking my world with awesome e-mails wherein we make up awesome stories about our past together. He's very funny and smart and seems to see into my head (which is not, in fact, transparent). He appears to be quite the very very handsome fella, too. He lives in Clinton and must work at Hamilton College in some capacity. Haven't heard from him in a couple of days, though ...

And there is still you-know-who, still to far away to be really viable though. Maybe, anyway. Who knows.

In other news .... there isn't much. Nice summer. Mild weather. How's by you?

Gracias, Jessica

Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: all of them make me laugh. -- WH Auden

Please begin with the previous post.

ShireMonkey ‎(2:24 PM):

there was a guy at geneseo who looked just like him, facially

but he was bigger and had bad 80s hair

we called him FRDJB

faux robert downey junior boy

Barefeet ‎(2:24 PM):

my paranoid schizphrenic neighbor from 1991 looked like judd nelson

ShireMonkey ‎(2:24 PM):

oh that had to give you bad dreams.

Barefeet ‎(2:25 PM):

http://www.triviatribute.com/images4/juddnelson2.jpg

like that version of him

ijust had either a craving or a flavor memory (fine line, that) for kraft mac and cheese

from the box

ShireMonkey ‎(2:26 PM):

not even cooked?

Barefeet ‎(2:26 PM):

well yeah

ShireMonkey ‎(2:26 PM):

ah the old cute judd

Barefeet ‎(2:26 PM):

i guess waht i meant was actualyl not waht i said

i meant the powdered kind, not the alter innovations involving squeezy packets

ShireMonkey ‎(2:27 PM):

i never liked those

Barefeet ‎(2:27 PM):

i did

ShireMonkey ‎(2:27 PM):

i always liked the powdered

better

faker flavor with the others

of course i haven't tried in 15 years

Barefeet ‎(2:27 PM):

they both weer basically salt flavored

ShireMonkey ‎(2:27 PM):

ha

ShireMonkey ‎(2:29 PM):

Evita has reminded me that FRDJB wore a scarf all the time

Barefeet ‎(2:29 PM):

you know Evita?

Un

Barefeet ‎(2:20 PM):

can you give me a name for this game

ShireMonkey ‎(2:21 PM):

potato

Barefeet ‎(2:21 PM):

thanks.

ShireMonkey ‎(2:21 PM):

Know your neighbor!

neighborly love and addiction

Barefeet ‎(2:22 PM):

addiction!

ShireMonkey ‎(2:22 PM):

WHO WAS ADDICTED TO COCAINE IN THE 90s

Barefeet ‎(2:22 PM):

ROBERT DOWNEY JR

ShireMonkey ‎(2:22 PM):

he's working ehre?!

EEEEEE

Barefeet ‎(2:22 PM):

sure

ShireMonkey ‎(2:22 PM):

i'm going to find him and lick him.

Barefeet ‎(2:22 PM):

you'll get high!

ShireMonkey ‎(2:22 PM):

even better

ShireMonkey ‎(2:23 PM):

he's like a south american frog

i bet no one's ever said that before

robert downey junior is like nothing if not a south america frog

tree frog

Barefeet ‎(2:23 PM):

indeed

endlessly compelling, shrouded in rumor

ShireMonkey ‎(2:23 PM):

name it Tree Frog

name it RDJ Tree Frog

Barefeet ‎(2:23 PM):

and brightly colored

Somebody's birthday's a-comin' ...

I wonder who it could be ...

Hint: It's the pretty one.

O how I miss her!

Hey to the Ea Thursday, July 31. She likes stuff.

(Also the birthday of this guy, if you follow such things, and I think you do.)

Bravo, Kudos, and other words of great applause, especially Italian, what with them operas and all

To the Olympic Committee: Felicitations on choosing a city for the summer games that not only is hazardous to your athletes' health, but will necessitate the canceling of entire events! Suck it up, those of you who've busted your asses your entire lives for this chance at the ultimate test of your endurance, strength, agility and skill! There's always American Gladiators.

This so never would've happened under Mitt Romney.

Don't get me started on "Batman" just yet

When I started typing "Christian" into the Google toolbar lodged in the upper right corner of my Firefox, at around "Chri" it offered me "Christopher Walken whore."

When I finally got to the Christian Bale story, I learned this:
He left the back of the station in a blacked out
silver Mercedes people carrier and sped past the awaiting paparazzi and heavy security.

"People carrier"? Apparently this differs from the automotive vehicles with which I have become familiar in my years. Certainly it must be some form of transport into which human beings climb via a slotted ramp, and inside it they stand together in a damp clump, their hands wrapped around straps dangling from the ceiling, eyeing their surroundings with curiosity and fear. Or maybe there are rails to keep them upright, like in line for a Disney ride. Or is it like the WedWay People Mover/Tomorrowland Transportation System? Whatever, I am curious about this "people carrier." Is it a cargo plane? Are Oceanic people hiding in the shadows?

The pink and glittery surround conveys
the magical experience that is riding in
the Mercedes Viano People Carrier.

Why, it resembles nothing so much as our own "minivans." I assume "people carriers" enable the British to fit more scones and jam around their feet.

Brilliance

Hawkman: if i was ever bill gates rich i would start a television station and get joss whedon and just throw a bunch of money at him and say "do whatever the hell you want to do"

Lucky day!

me: my dresser just squeezed out a KITTY!
minuterice: a new one?!
me: she looks familiar ...
minuterice: aww
minuterice: still though
me: i'm trying names out on her
me: she seems partial to "Blissy"
minuterice: last name "pants"?
me: YES!
me: you know her too!
minuterice: yeah, she's a cool cat
me: is she ever
me: i think i will keep her.

Mary, Gnome, Ellen

Mary, Gnome, Ellen, originally uploaded by MonkeyPantaloons.

This may be my favorite photo of all time.

Skinny bowtruckles and the velveteen mayor

Wherein the past weekend of wonderful people is paid tribute
Part I of V

It begins with a wedding.



First, a little family background. My Mom is the oldest of eight Boggan kids — six girls and two boys. I have 17 cousins, and I am in the elder bunch. But really that’s not the whole picture. We were three more once, for one thing. When I was little, maybe 5, my cousins Yvonne, Keith and Yvette were killed in a car accident on their way home from church, along with my Uncle Earl (my Mom’s brother and my godfather) and a neighbor child.

My Aunt Marion was thrown from the car and woke up from a coma two weeks later to find out what had happened to her husband, her children, her world. Gaah.

Aunt Marion remarried and had two daughters (the spitting images of their lost half-sisters), Natalie and Rachael, giving us two more official-but-not-blood cousins. Then my Mom and her siblings also have one cousin, Fred, who married Barb and had two boys, Kevin and Brian, giving us two second cousins. It’s been many years since we’ve really seen any of these quasi cousins, except for when I stayed on Kevin’s couch when I first moved to Florida 10 years ago. Barb and Fred (Fritz) are still close with my Mom and some of her siblings, though, and they come to these big family events.

I’m not sure how much of that you need to know, but I didn’t really know how to write this without it.

The Delineation of Us 18:
Bob and John
Rick, Pat and Marc
Me
Jenny, Pete, Sam, Ben
Jill, Erin, Sara, Josh, Katie, Megan
Ann and Joey

My cousins are now almost all married — six of us left single, I think, and me the only one in the upper eschelon. (Correction: John, who is my age, just got divorced. Seven.) There are 18 offspring of the cousins and their spouses, with one more in the immediate offing (due Nov. 2). So you can imagine what it would be like for ALL of us to get together. I’m about to start eliciting promises about my own if-it-ever-happens wedding. I want everyone there. So: 17 cousins, 11 spouses, 18 chilluns, plus our seven progenitors and their spouses, who number … 10, and Sylvia, our step-grandmother.

57 people including me. 60 with Barb, Fritz and Aunt Marion. 61 once Next Baby Marthia arrives. Bigger than the population of the principality of Monaco! Really, I'm pretty sure that's true.

part II below

The Wedding of Sara to Tom

Wherein a girl who still seems to me 16 is wed, and cousins are met with song and drink
Part II of V

I’ve always been really good with little kids. When I was a teenager, my little cousin Sara and I would be attached at the hip at family events. But when I went off to college, I didn’t see so much of her, and then she went and got about the business of growing-upness.

(The first family event I missed while at college, she thought my cousin Jenny was me.)


This weekend, Sara, who is now 26 and entirely unknown to me on any real level beyond that chubby-cheeked, dimpled, blue-eyed hip-cherub of yore, got married to her high-school sweetheart, Tom. It was nice, a very basic Catholic wedding, with her four sisters, Jill, Erin, Katie and Megan, among the attendants. Her brother, Josh, also ushered and played guitar.

The best thing was, of course, spending time with my family.

These goombas.

And I realized this weekend that that has gotten loads better again after a few years of my feeling completely unmoored and alone among this very large group of relations. Especially awesome was that my cousin Bob came with his wife, Vicki. I’ve thought very highly of Bob since he married her, see. (Always did, of course, ha ha! HI BOB, XOXO) So yay, I got to spend a lot of time with them and the other cousins/cousins-in-law in attendance.

Some cousins couldn’t make it to the wedding, due to their own babies having been born mere days or a couple of months beforehand, having to move to Dallas, etc. And this was an adults-only reception (no strippers, though), so some spouses had to stay home with the kids. (Did you know how hard it is to get baby sitters on the 4th of July? Apparently somewhere in the realm of VERY VERY VERY HARD.)

At the reception, my cousin Marc kept trying to get me drunk. (When I told his wife this the next day, she wasn’t surprised, not even a little bit.) I hadn’t seen him for an hour, for instance, when he found me in the line for stir fry, a Labatt’s in one hand and my second gin & tonic in the other. “It’ll be near Aunt Pam,” he said as he went off with the drinks. Lucky for me the bartenders seemed to be making things pretty weak; I normally would never have been able to drink two and a half.

Late night for Cree! I got a ride with my Aunt Margaret and Marc, her son the drink-presenter. I think we left at — ! — 11:30. I had to wash my hair when I got home because it reeked of someone’s perfume.

I suspect Barb.

we continue with part III below

Showering Annie

In which amazing cake is had and gifts are opened
Part III of V

Next day was my cousin Ann’s bridal shower, given by my Mom at the Roycroft Inn in East Aurora, one of the most beautiful places I know (that the common folk of Buffalo can enter, anyway).


That's Ann with my Mom

All six Boggan sisters were there together, which doesn’t happen too much anymore, once a year or so.


How many are drunk? No one knows!

Ann was quite happy, and we got to meet her future mother-in-law, who seems to really care about her. The cake was possibly the best cake I’ve ever had under groups circumstances like that (the best that wasn’t homemade, anyway): nice dense dark chocolate cake; really smooth, unsugary frosting. Even I ate some.

Afterward Vicki and I went out to Rushford Lake. Our great-grandparents built a cottage out there when my Mom etc. were chilluns. A few years ago my Aunt Margaret took ownership of it from my grandfather, and Marc and his brother-in-law made some really great but simple changes to it.



(You’ll remember the cottage from the Cree’s Lonely Childhood post, you will.) There I was brought strawberries and organic kettle corn and saw, from a distance, for they are boys and don’t really know me much, a bunch of those aforementioned offspring. I couldn’t stay long, for I had a Karla to meet for dinner, but it was good to see it; I can’t remember the last time I was out there. Maybe 1996 even. Damn.

When we were wee, one of the best parts of Rushford was Pa’s Bus. I don’t think the chilluns are allowed on there now, but yay, it’s still there!



See?

You will find part IV if you turn your glance
further down the page

The Afterglow and the Audacity of Hope

Wherein others are met, faint hopes are dashed upon the rocks (with salt), and Loki laughs and laughs, that motherfucker
Part IV of V

Saturday evening was some quality time with Karla, which is always awesome.


Not even a little bit drunk

Then came the news of an unexpected girlfriend in a situation I’d hoped to visit elsewhere on my way back to Ithaca, which was disappointing and nothing if not Proof of Loki. Soon I’m seriously going to come up with a Loki Seal of Approval. Point, Loki. Advantage, Loki. No love for me, which I realize messes up this loose metaphor, except that the source of the term in the tennis world is the French for egg: l’oeuf, arising from the nice round emptiness of the zero. WHATEVER; I wanted to sock someone in the gut. I’d even shirked my normal social anxiety in the face of the opportunity. But as most of you know, it drops perfectly into the story of my life.

Sunday, Paul came for the afternoon, which was also, as always, awesome.


Can you see a fly or maybe a basketball in my nose?*

He’s an especially good buffer with my parents.



*If there's anyone who gets that old Letterman reference (and there's more to it than that), I will write you a post of great praise.
... Dave.

Just one more in the series; keep on keepin' on, gentle reader!

The Kicker

You just keep reading, you
Part V

I finally had to leave a little after 4 (later than planned, but who could’ve left sooner with all the great people to see?). All along the first half of the drive I kept thinking about stopping to buy (a) French fries at a service area and (2) a bottle of Lucas Miss Behavin’ white table wine back in Ithaca. I was really craving the fries, and ready to indulge. So I stopped at Scottsville, the second service area heading east away from Buffalo.

Busy busy day on the NYS Thruway. I got my fries and a fish sandwich that I was startled Arby’s had. Heck, I even bought a Coke! A Cherry Coke, because the gift shop (and vending machines) were out of regular. Can you believe that? Is this not America? Is this not the time during which we celebrate the birth of the greatest nation OF ALL TIME with sugary, bubbly drinks? What kind of commie tarrorisst service-area manager/vendor doesn’t stock enough Coca-Cola for the WEEK-END?

I AM TELLING YOU

Anyhoo, I got back into the car with my snacky treats, turned the key in the ignition, and …. Nothing. Rrr-rrr-rr, but nothing more. Tried like five times. Sat there thinking, You are kidding me. You — have got — to be kidding me.

Called AAA. For some reason they can’t go onto the Thruway, so they sent a Thruway Guy along. I waited about 40 minutes, which wasn’t really so bad, but gave me time to think about the fact that I am always dealing with these situations alone. I had awesome people ahead in Ithaca and awesome people behind me back home, and even some in that third point of the triangle Floridaward, but I’m always alone in between.

(In particular I had, by phone, Chris and Melissa in Ithaca and Chris Prime in Orlando, but had to watch my cell battery, so when I hung/pressed up, I had only their memories to keep me company.)

Thruway Guy was really cute and very nice, and very young. Stop now, please, really. His name was Edo (Ay-doh), which seems like it should be Spanishy but he didn’t seem very Spanishy. I gave him $20 and he was all surprised and “Are you sure?!” and aw. Edo.

So I couldn’t stop again, a real treat for Driving Bladder Cree. But Melissa met me at my mechanic’s and let me run into Wegmans before taking me home.

So that made me pretty cranky, which I didn’t want to be after what was otherwise a mostly just damned great weekend of people-mooting. Kitties were all chatty and delightful upon my return, which is always the most important thing anyway. Now I come to you with this so-long post and try to figure out whether to make it one long one or several shorties. But you will not see the shorties in the right order, so I have my answer.

Actually, no. We'll see if this works.