Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Federal Spending

The other day I was listening to a news report on the proposed federal spending, and it occurred to me -- since both parties sneer at the opposition’s spending  -- I thought I should look at some pie charts for different adminstrations and see how they compare.

I compared Federal Spending for 1998 (Clinton), 2009 (Obama), and 2018 (Trump). I know they're too small to read. You could expand them, but why bother, because they are all exactly the same damn pie.

Clinton

Obama

Trump

(Pies from USGovernmentSpending.com)

Most categories varied by 1-2%, generally. The biggest leap was for health care, from 22% (Clinton), 26% (Obama), to 27% (Trump). Still, when you think of the healthcare debate, do you think they're haggling over 5%? No, they make it sound like those Obamacare pie slices are Pac-Man sized.

The one that varied most was military / defense spending, ranging from 19% (Clinton), 26% (Obama), to 22% (Trump).  The 7% jump from Clinton to Obama was at least statistically significant. It's the only visible change in the pies above. But still, you have two wars and only bump up spending 7%? Pfft.

I mean, I didn't think I would find a giant pie slice labeled "Welfare queens!" next to one for "Thousand dollar hammers!" but I thought I'd see some dramatic variance between parties in power.

I'm sure there's some subtlety I'm missing. I suspect that I’m not looking at only discretionary spending — but still, looking at only one part misses the big picture, and it’s too much like looking at a line graph with an axis that doesn’t start at zero. 

Odd Things You Find on Facebook

Okay, I like organization. I like upcycling. I thought I'd like this artice I saw on Facebook: 30 New Ways to Use Your Old Stuff.

This article was an atrocity. There were two suggestions right off that claimed to improve junk drawer organization using teacup saucers or clean tuna fish cans.

Well yes, but if you have so much space you can take up an entire drawer to display your paperclips and buttons, and then leave 1/3 of it empty so it doesn't look "cluttered," then just throw that crap out or give it to the servants. I mean, perhaps actual clutter has to be organized, but a half cup of buttons do not need to be organized.

As for the Tin Herb garden, plants grow. That basil and thyme is going to take over your kitchen.

And the final abomination: shoes hanging decoratively on the wall. Clearly they've never been worn. Do you have colorful unworn shoes? Okay. Give them to the poor. Don’t hang them on your wall. That's just nasty.

Buffalo

Recently I had buffalo mozzarella at Friend Anne's, who taught me this fun fact:

Buffalo mozzarella? Not invented in Buffalo, New York. (Buffalo chicken wings were, though).

Nor is it made from the milk of the American buffalo.

It is made from the milk of the Italian water buffalo. Water buffalo like this bad boy. I like the way water buffalo cheese tastes, and this guy enjoyed my flavor.

 

Review: Once Upon a Time ... In Hollywood

The beginning of Once Upon a Time ... In Hollywood is intriguing, and very Tarantino. The atmosphere and music are dead-on. (For days now, Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show has been stuck in my head. It goes away sometimes, but then someone will mention babies or old ladies and it will come back.) But, a movie can only spend so long establishing the atmosphere before it becomes tedious.

That brings us to the middle, which ... which is beyond tedious. Tedissimus. A great deal of Tarantino-like flashbacks and Pulp Fictiony side stories, and I felt all the cutting just served to undercut the plot. In the middle, I sat there and sighed and wished it was over.

The end, of course, is where it all comes together in a very grisly fashion, with a callback to another famous Tarantino movie. Does it make up for the middle? Well ... at the time it was very satisfying, but now a few days later I can't say it was worth it.

 

 

Changes

I was driving down Lindbergh and I went past all the typical landmarks: the airport, the Andes building where Mom worked, the Monsanto exit - and in place of the Monsanto exit I saw this:

I mean, I knew it was coming, now that Monsanto (universally hated evil corporation) has merged with Bayer (universally hated evil corporation). But man, I was not prepared for the sign to change. First TWA disappears, now Big Momma Monsanto. I mean, In-Bev bought Anheuser-Busch, but at least the Highway 40 eagle still flaps his illuninated wings through an enormous letter A.

 

Historic Village

Because I am always distracted by the Butterfly House and the Carousel, I seem to have missed a fun activity in Faust Park -- visiting the Historic Village.

It is filled with Saint Louis historic homes, and on summer weekends, if the volunteers are so inclined, you will be welcomed by characters "inhabiting" the homes. They go as far as dressing up and assuming names, but they don't go full-on Colonial Williamsburg where they pretend to have no knowledge of cars and mobile phones. They're happy to explain the details of the house, and more than happy to discuss the details of why Governor Bates was the first really good Governor of Missouri after that slacker McNair.

Three of the volunteers were there the day I went.

The Blacksmith:

The Lady of the Conway house:

The Spinner at the Bates house:

I got the impression that the spinner and the blacksmith were doing this to support their hobbies. I don't know if having an impossibly tiny waist is a hobby, but the lady of the Conway house had that nailed.

The best part? After all these homes were relocated, they were equipped with central air conditioning. They claim it was to preseve the home and discourage mold and rot, but Saint Louisans know better.

BNL in Saint Louis 2019

Nope, I did not go see Barenaked Ladies when they came to Saint Louis this summer. Why? Because they were only here for an hour to open for Hootie and the Blowfish, and it was hot, and all the good seats were sold out to all the Hootie fans.

However, had I gone, I would have seen a nice homage to the Saint Louis Blues: they closed out their show singing "Gloria," the theme song for the Stanley Cup win.

 

Review: Stuber / The Farewell

Two movies, two very different experiences

===============================

I went to see Stuber with Gary, a buddy comedy about an Uber driver named Stu, which caused Gary to remarked that if he drove for Uber he would be Goober.

It was very lightweight, but it made me laugh a few times. The dialog was repartee-paced banter with very little witty repartee, but there were some nice slapstick parts. You have to suspend disbelief, because in reality I think we all know any movie with gunfire would end during the first gun battle.  I recommend it for video when you want to laugh a few times in ninety minutes.

===============================

Gary wasn’t interested in The Farewell, so I was delighted to see it with Friend Anne. There now, that was a movie. I had high expectations and they were met. At the climax of the movie I truly had no idea which way it would go. It's one of those movies when you drive home and want to read all the interviews with the writer and actors so you can consume more of the movie. (If you do see it, find the Fresh Air APR interview with the writer/director.)

Whole Foods

This happened yesterday.

I got in the car and pulled out the phone, because I wanted Siri to give me directions to the nearest Whole Foods, because they have the toddler-aged cheeses that I like — but I didn’t tell Siri that, I just said:

“Hey Siri, give me directions to Whole Foods.”

“Getting directions to Panera Bread,” she answered.

“Saint Louis Bread Company,” I mentally corrected her.

Then I said, much more distinctly. “Hey. Siri. Get. Me. Directions. To. Whole. Foods.”

“Getting directions to Panera Bread,” she answered, again. I looked at the screen and saw a map of how to get to a Panera. 

I would have tried a third time, but I was at a stoplight, and I decided to go to the park instead.

She won’t do it now, of course. I was within two miles of a Panera at the time.

I have two theories: 

1. Amazon is associated with Whole Foods now: Amazon Alexa is Siri’s greatest competitor: ergo, Siri is sabotaging attempts to get to Whole Foods.
2. Where do you get bagels? Panera, aka Saint Louis Bread Company. And what do bagels have? Holes. They are hole foods.

Post-Partum Opossum

Oh, this poor girl. See how she's having to straddle that pouch.

Imagine: after carrying babies and then delivering babies, the babies crawl back up into your body and then weigh you down as you try to get some food. And you know they're suckling at all twelve teats she has inside her pouch. They're draining the nutrition out of her as fast as she can put it in.

I bet the next time I see her she has one less baby in there. Opossum morals allow a mom  to reach up in the pouch and pull a baby out as a snack if it gets to be too much for her.

Reviews: The Art of Self Defense

Gary and I went to see The Art of Self-Defense. They need a new genre for this movie. “Dark comedy” is not dark enough. Not even “Black comedy.” Perhaps “Comedy Noir” or “Hershey’s Special Dark Comedy.”

Frankly, it is so dark you can’t really tell it’s a comedy until well into it. Then of course, you are so astonished and thankful for the humor that you laugh desperately.

I enjoyed it, even though ... well ... no spoilers.

 

A New Term For Me

I heard a new term recently. In the TV movie Page Eight, Bill Nighy insisted he was not going to “throw a wobbly.”

I sounds so much better to “throw a wobbly” than to  “pitch a fit” or “have a cow”.

And it seems our friends in the Southern Hemisphere have improved in that phrase, because they prefer to “chuck a wobbly” more than “throw a wobbly”.  And it is preferable. 

I need to see if I can get this to catch on in my area.

Review: Crawl

So the lastest movie we went to see was Crawl, because Gary read that critics likened it to Jaws.

First off, while it's no Jaws, it's also no Annabelle Comes Home. Unlike Annabelle, the "jump scenes" actually made me jump.  And there, any resemblance to Jaws ends. Instead of one scary shark, there are multiple alligators. Instead of tensions between three protagonists in Jaws, you just get boring fidelity between two relatives who are already described as similar, so that's dull.

However, if, like me, you think you might like to be prepared if an alligator bites off one of your limbs, this movie is a masterclass in Making Your Own Tourniquet and Setting Your Own Broken Limb (with up-close images of the inside of a broken bone, yum). I enjoyed that part of the movie. And, I also enjoyed the music at the very end.

If, like Gary, you see a dog introduced in a movie about alligators and immediately moan "No, not the dog ..."

======== Spoilers are below ============

[SPOILER] The dog is fine.

Verdict: Not a classic, but it kept me awake.

Let’s All Go To The Movies

Around here, if you want to get out of the house and stay out of the heat, the options are limited: indoor golf, shopping, dining, and movies. Of course there is an exciting city nearby with museums and plays and music, but I still live seven miles from even seeing the skyline unless it’s an exceptionally clear day. 

So, we go to movies. 

(Incidentally, the nagging Fandango mystery of “how did I buy the last two seats, but now I’m sitting in a nearly empty theater” has been solved. Fandango shares the seats with the theater chain’s app. When Fandango tells me all the seats are sold out, they mean the allotted percentage of Fandango seats are sold out. The theater app’s seats are still available, but no one buys tickets there, you go to Fandango.)

It feels like we’ve been to one movie per week this summer and there aren’t 52 good movies a year, so I need a new air-conditioned activity. Indoor sports? Perhaps a cooking class? Perhaps we could take up drinking in bars? What do you all do?

Saint Louis Museums Not Safe for Puppies

There is a video in the Saint Louis Science Center that discusses the science behind the Tacoma Narrows Bridge Collapse.

The science center video is narrated, and to add some drama to the dry theory of why the bridge fell, it tells the story of the last man to drive on the bridge, which you can read here. Short version: man is driving a family dog to his daughter, bridge begins to collapse, man runs ... and the narration ends with the dog dying. No details. Just, oh, that dog we mentioned, kids? It died.

Evidently introducing children to the mistreatment of dogs is a Saint Louis thing. I saw this at the new Arch museum:

Update on Dennis Day, Mousketeer

I know you come here for the latest news on the murder of Dennis Day, Mouseketeer.

A suspect has been arrested: a former handyman. Details are sparse but evidently he used Dennis Day's credit cards immediately after Dennis went missing.

The suspect is quoted elsewhere as saying, "This is messed up."

I can easily see myself with a spouse with dementia, at the mercy of a handyman, without any of the protections Disney fame would provide, so this story speaks to me.

New Arch Grounds and Museum

The Arch grounds have been improved.

• Thankfully there is no zip line, as we discussed.
• There is a better Arch entrance.

The old entrance is now the exit. It's still too easy to fall into.

• The pokey bridge over the highway has been replaced with a landscaped wedge that utterly hides the highway.
• The Arch museum is now huge.

 The old Arch museum was entirely submerged, and small enough to fit between the Arch legs: 630 feet. It had a theater where you could watch a film on the building of the Arch, and air conditioning, and an old editorial cartoon arguing that the Arch looks like a giant croquet wicket.

The new Arch museum stretches from the highway to the Arch, and it must be ten times larger than the old museum. It’s big enough to include:

• a cafeteria where they serve toasted ravioli
• a giant sideways floor map of the US
• a charming exhibit detailing the architect's original plan for the Arch grounds, which included a "campfire theater," statue gardens, and zip lines (kidding)

It is not big enough to include all the regret for taking the West from the Native Americans and Mexico. The museum designers finally dealt with the ugliness of our national expansion in what was formerly called the Jefferson National Expansion monument. At least the Louisiana purchase part of the country was paid for, everything else was grabbed from someone else.

Even as a Saint Louisian, I learned a lot. I didn't know (or had forgotten) that there was a steamboat fire that took out much of the riverfront and sparked a cholera epidemic. I didn't know that the Chouteau family didn't live on Chouteau, or any of the rest of the Chouteau family drama. I understand now how you can use a barrel to drink Mississippi mud water. I still don't understand why we flew the flag of Spain for a day after we were bought from the French in the Louisiana purchase.

The only improvement I would recommend is a spot where the air conditioning from the museum is blasted through the ceiling and flutters the grass to cool off the actual park.

Trolley

About a million years and 51 million dollars ago, one businessman pushed for Forest Park and the Delmar Loop district to be connected by an old-school Saint Louis trolley, as in "Clang, clang, clang went the" etc.

We rode it on Saturday, when our expedition to see the new museum under the Arch was waylaid when we realized half a million other people were at the Arch grounds for the Fair.

I was excited to think I might be on the same trolley my fifteen-year-old Mom might have used to chat up boys. Mom and her friend Carleen would ride the trolley from one end to the other and practice the art of conversation. She said the boys who came in on the Forest Park Stop were the best, especially the ones who had been visiting the art museum. Sadly, though, it seems these are some imported Australian trolleys. They are lovely, if not original.

The tracks are not original, either. There are original tracks in other parts of the city, but the ground had to be dug up for these.

So, people in the Delmar Loop area and the Forest Park area had to suffer through streets being torn up, tracks laid, electric wires hung, cement poured, cement not being walked on for a month, hosing down the cement every day, and on top of that they were being taxed for ten years on top of that.

They. Hate. The. Trolley.

1. For quite some time, people who parked on Delmar would have their side mirrors clipped off by the passing trolley.
2. The trolley only goes ten miles an hour, so that means if you need to actually need to get somewhere on Delmar, you have to drive ten miles an hour. I heard the honking as cars waited behind the trolley as it plodded up a hill. Not just one car honking. A block-full of Delmar Boulevard honking.
3. And then, later, as we drove through an intersection, a women waiting at the light leaned out the window of her car and shrieked, "YOU WASTE OF TAXPAYER MONEY!" at the trolley.

I felt bad for the trolley. I am certain no one treats trolleys this way in Australia.

Pompeii

Last week, while I was on "vacation," Gary didn't wake up before 2 pm and I stalked off on my own. I ended up at the Science Center and saw the Pompeii exhibit.

You walk through the statues of gods and goddesses, elect to view the Phallus Corner or not with its Pompeian phallus wind chimes, and then get a taste of what the earthquake was like with a movie complete with surround sound and a fog machine. Then the fog lifts to reveal a museum guide, standing in sillhouette, who tells you not to touch the dead bodies.

Technically, though, you'd be touching the volcanic ash encasing the dead body.

I was wondering why I felt so much more uncomfortable in this exhibit compared to the Body Worlds exhibit. You would think both groups were equal, just that one group had nothing over its organs and one had too much. I think it's because the skinned Body Worlds bodies were posed dancing, or enjoying leisure activities, while these bodies were  in genuine raw terror. It made me sad.  Not a good exhibit for the kiddies.

Staycation Movies

In addition to seeing Kinky Boots The Musical the Movie, we saw three other movies, because it isn't 90+ degrees in the movie theater.

Spiderman: Far from Home - this caused me a little emotional pain because it was filmed on location we'd been to during an earlier, more enjoyable vacation in London, and the contrast was great, given that I was not Far From Home. Still, I only fell asleep one time, and that's saying a lot for a superhero movie. (Nap time: Battle with the Fire monster.)

Annabelle Comes Home - (Again with the "Home" theme.) This was clearly this was part of a deal I made with Gary that if I went to see this dreck he would go with me to see Yesterday. If you don't like scary movies, you should go see Annabelle Comes Home. It is relaxing. I didn't even jump once. My right foot might have twitched in one scene.

SPOILERS AHEAD. The secret is that they used the same rhythm for every scene that was supposed to scare you:

1. Music swells
2. Creepy scenario
3. Nothing happens
4. Music fades
5. Wait three beats
6. Something jumps out

If I had not just erroneously consumed a caffeinated beverage I would have been lulled to sleep. (Nap time: Any scene in the basement.)

Yesterday - First off, the theater was full of people, not empty seats, so that was a good sign. Second, the crowd laughed at the same spots I did, and Gary laughed at the same spots I did, and that's a good sign as well because I sometimes see the joke coming and laugh early. All the jokes surprised me. I wasn't sure I would like it, because critics didn't rave about it.

Those critics seem to complain that it was "silly" and did not do enough to honor the Beatles and their "legacy." Happily, no one in our theater was in the mood for a Beatles documentary. (Nap time: any rom-com scene.)

Kinky Boots the Musical: the Movie

Last weekend we went to a local cinema to see a filmed production of Kinky Boots, the stage musical based on the 2005 movie.

I suppose I expected a one-camera shot of a stage where a production of Kinky Boots was taking place. Instead, there were many cameras and close-ups and the like.

In addition, the actors all wore diminutive forehead microphones that were painted to match their skin tones. They looked like they shared an outbreak of forehead warts. Don’t actors have to learn how to project anymore? That surprised me.

I also didn’t expect to see reaction shots of the audience. It took me entirely out of the movie. Instead of feeling like I was sharing a communal experience, I felt like a scientist observing a London audience who was really enjoying a performance I did not attend. 

That is until the finale which of course had me in tears, but ... not full-on sobbing. 

Odd. Don’t know if I would rush to do it again.

Spam Email

I’m pretty impressed with Charter mail’s spam filter, especially when I’ve missed an email and I have to dirty my hands sorting through the trash in my junk email folder. When I look there it seems I get spam every hour.

That’s why I was surprised to see that some spam made it through all the defenses and landed in my actual inbox. Even better, it was a “sextortion” scam.  

“Subject: seen you Mastrubating” 

I can truly say that I have never spent even a moment “mastrubating.” 

“Hi, I'm a hacker and programmer, I know one of your password is: [followed by a ten year old password]”

I am a programmer as well, plus I know the difference between a comma and a semicolon. Additionally, I would have added an “s” after “password” because otherwise the sentence makes no sense.

This is followed by a bit of terminology, and then the big gotcha:

"I collected all your private data, recorded few videos of you (through your webcam) and I RECORDED YOU SATISFYING YOURSELF!!!"

Well! Good for me. What kind of "mastrubator" would I be if I couldn't satisfy myself?

What follows are threats that:

1. This "mastrubation" video will be posted on the dark web where "very sick people" are
2. My contacts will see me "mastrubating" (Hi Friends!)
3. The "mastrubation" (it never gets old!) video will be sent to social media

... followed by a promise that I can save myself by sending "exactly" $800 in bitcoin to a specific address in "3 days time."

"It's a very good offer, compared to all that HORRIBLE shit that will happen if you don't pay!"

Well, bring that horrible shit on, because I Googled the Bitcoin exchange rate, and that is $320,000 dollars.

New Restaurant

I ate a big pile of crab at Red Lobster. I tore those crustaceans up. Gary had to dodge claws. Crab juice was flying. Eventually a pound of crab was in my belly and a pile of shells were on the table.

I asked the waiter, if one day I became unable to crack open the crabs, was there an option on the menu of pre-shelled crab with butter.

"Nope," he said, and then volunteered that he was sure Gary would always be glad to shell my crabs for me. I lied and said, "Of course!" But of course: not.

However, it got me thinking: how about an all-crab restaurant in which bare-chested waiters come by with crab legs? Then as you sit there daintily, the waiter takes the crab in one massive hand and crushes it like a beer can. Then he deftly sorts out the crab meat and arranges it on your plate.

And then he dips it in butter and feeds it to you. No. That's too far. I just need the shell gone.

I also need a name. It's down to: Exoskeleton, Crab Kings, or Mussels.

Independence Day

Happy Independence Day, America!

Don't forget: sure, the Declaration of Independence is great, but no matter what day it is, or what party you support, everyone loves the Constitution. It never has a low approval rate.

 

Moonwalk One

Okay, this will be my last post regarding the CNN Apollo 11 documentary I first saw earlier this year that I'm so crazy about.

I did a little more research on the "lost" footage. Here's what evidently happened. A film crew shot a lot of film - high quality 70mm film - for a movie they were making called Moonwalk One, about the moon landing. 

That film was released the year after the moon landing. It was only shown a short time in select cities. The film was not popular, supposedly because people were sick of hearing about Apollo 11.

If you ask me, it was not popular because it was full of narration intoning about humanity and it opened with Stonehenge and there was just a lot of self-congratulatory puffery.  Of course, I'm comparing it with the stripped-down CNN film and its subtext of, "Yeah, we shot a tin can to the moon, walked around, how crazy was that?"

(It strikes me now that this new Apollo 11  documentary is probably the most objective and factual thing I've heard from CNN for years. I don't disagree with their bias, but ah, for the days of objective journalism.)

After its limited release, Moonwalk One and its extra footage went into the archives and the filmmakers were consoled that they had made a time capsule. It was restored and shown again in 2009. You can see it on Amazon Prime, if you are curious.

Or, better yet, you can see the footage integrated into the CNN movie. That’s it! I am off the subject.

Gate

The last few days our back gate has been opened during the night. I usually assume it's the neighbor child retrieving a ball, and then not closing the gate because it's a lot harder to close than to open. But I've been paying closer attention, and unless the child has been playing ball in the rain at night, someone else is opening the gate at night.

I think it's the one in the middle. He looks like a ringleader.

This is the gate latch ...

... and they say if a two-year-old can open it, a raccoon can.

In addition, it occurs to me that just a week ago Gary added a flagstone under our gate opening because it's so muddy there. I'll bet raccoons can't fit under, so they go over now. But why wouldn't they just jump over if they were up at  latch level? Why would they open the gate? Out of courtesy to older, less athletic raccoons?

It could happen. I mean, if seals can sing ...

 

Coronation of Poppea

Have you ever seen a performance of Taming of the Shrew, and when Kate gives her big speech on obedience at the end, and she turns and winks, and you think, “well, that makes it more palatable, but you know that’s not true to the original.” 

I felt that way about The Coronation of Poppea, the last opera for the season. Of course, the opera itself isn’t true to the original, the creator said upfront he was playing with history. Perhaps the version I saw was closer to the real history of Nero and Poppea. The version I saw had some extra set directions that changed the tone of the end dramatically. It made it better, absolutely: darker, less sappy, and more satisfying that the versions I saw on YouTube the next day. But is it canon? Probably not.

The costumes were interesting: they set it in the sixties. (Speaking of costumes, three people complimented us on our tiaras. We only saw one other person making an effort with her headgear: a woman wearing a very on-theme golden laurel wreath.) Instead of the sixties, they could have set it this year, given how people were chuckling over Nero’s speech on how he can be as irrational as he likes because he’s the President Emperor. 

The set, on the other hand, was perplexing. It was the talk of the intermission. It looked just like a drained swimming pool, only there was a refrigerator that held Bloody Marys that were the equivalent of the oranges in The Godfather. There was also a barn door, for some reason. During the intermission, I cornered an usher, Russ, and demanded to know what’s up with this set, what the hell, Russ, and he promised to get an answer and get back with me after the show.

He did! He said because the characters all all trapped by their lies and deceits the set depicts places you can feel trapped: a meat locker,  a swimming pool (trapped under water, I suppose), and so on. That’s what Russ the usher said, and I believe it.

Radio and Rain

Last Friday afternoon I had an errand to run. I checked the weather report and rain was not expected, no doubt because it wasn't the weekend yet. During the ten-minute drive, I thought I heard on the radio that bad weather might be moving in, but I dismissed it because I only half-listen to the radio.

When I first got in the car the sky was blue, then ten minutes later when I got out the sky was so black the streetlights were on. This happened with the Great Flood in '93: thunderstorms would pop up out of a literally clear and literally blue sky.

So, counting the police on Bennington and the thunderstorm, this is twice in a row that the radio has tried to alert me and I have dismissed it. I think I started ignoring the radio when they began playing the hockey team's favorite song 24 hours a day, and who could blame me?

Radio

Thursday morning I heard on the radio, "blah blah something parking lot blah Bennington blah officer shooting."

"What was that?" I thought, "I drive on Bennington on the way to work." I reached for the device that lets me rewind the radio but I couldn't find it because it DOESN'T EXIST even though there's one for the TV and the CD player. (Bogus.)

When I turned on to Bennigton later that morning I thought, "I wonder if I can figure out where the shooting took place. Slim chance of that, though, Bennington's a long road, and for all I know they were talking about Jordan Bennington, the Blues goalie, and ... hey... check out all these police cars outside that parking lot."

And truly, there were dozens of police cars, all lights flashing by the parking lot entrance, and there was even police tape across the parking lot entrance. It was a show of force, or perhaps a celebration, considering the the police won this one.

Rain

It is officially summer, and the end of a very wet spring. In my area it rained every weekend in spring, with one evidently forgettable exception. The garden is lush, but so are the weeds, and I can't get out to pull them because of the rain.

I sound pouty to you, don't I? No. I'm quite happy to not pull the weeds.

Other people get dismayed by rain. I love it. Rain has always been on my side.

Rain meant I didn't have to go out on the playground at recess and waste good book-reading time.

Rain means I don't have waste $70 a month watering the lawn to maintain Gary's status as a suburban Lawn Master.

And today, I can spend the morning inside with tea instead of outside with the weeds.

No One Cares What I Had for Dinner Before the Opera

It feels like it's been years since I had a nice dinner out. "Nice" defined as not a chain, but instead inventive, devoted to modern-day food -- which frankly can be an expensive risk. So, with apologies to my husband who treated me to a nice steak dinner at a chain the night before, I really enjoyed my meal before the opera at Big Sky Cafe.

But, like the opera, I enjoyed one half more than the other.

I elected to have two "small plates," and they were both entrees and I don't care. This was not like the day I got out of the hospital on steroids and I went to Uncle Bill's Pancake House and ordered two entire platter entrees for myself. (The waitress even objected and I did it anyway, and I ate it all.)

Before the opera, I got scallops, which were perfect. Little bites of melty sea-butter.

In addition to the safe scallops, I odered one daring thing: Pork Cheeks. I keep referring to them in my mind as Pig Jowls, but the menu said Pork Cheeks.

I was expecting something fatty, like Pork Belly, or something I couldn't even imagine (Pig Face? Pig skin Bacon ? Snoots?), but it ended up being something that resembled Beef Pot Roast so much in taste and texture that I had to ask the waitress if I got the right order.

Friend Anne had a very melty crabcake and, I believe, wasted her second gamble on field greens.

Now that I've given my opinion, I'm safe from influence and I can look up reviews of Big Sky Cafe. It would be astonishing if anyone disagrees with me.

Summer Plans

I am writing these things down. Supposedly, writing things down helps you hold yourself accountable.

I am determined to do these things this summer:

Visit the Tiger Sanctuary.

Watch a movie of the stage production of Kinky Boots (already have the tickets). By a coincidence, I'll be watching the filmed version of the London Adelphi performance while the same thing is showing at the municipal opera. This might end up being a good way to see shows that are at the Muny theater, but avoid the heat and the DAMN GNATS.

Visit the new Arch museum. This has been on the list for a year. I was very concerned that the crowd under the arch for the Stanley Cup rally might have tried to stand on the grass-covered roof of the museum and collapse it.

Leave the house on the weekends if it is under 83 degrees.

Garden in the evenings after the DAMN GNATS all die later this month.

See Samantha Fish at the Atomic Cowboy with Friend 2. I need  another concert for the list. The Kathleen Madigan concert isn't until November. And, I know, Barenaked Ladies are in town, but they're only opening for Hootie and the Blowfish, and decent seats cost over a hundred dollars, and can I justify $200 to watch my band play for an hour?

Encourage Gary to get the toilet and the driveway installed and the new basement crack fixed. This is out of my control, of course, and I know any amount of encouragement will backfire on me. Yeah, strike that off the list.

Participate in life in general instead of just waiting it out.

Gnats

Last week at work I overheard someone say, “Oh they were awful. I couldn’t get away from them.”

I whirled around. “Gnats!” I said. “You’re talking about gnats.”

”Yes! What is it with the gnats this year?”

”It’s the flood,” I answered, because I had already Googled “what is it with the gnats this year” and found that every news station along the Mississippi has run a gnat report.

The only thing is, I remember the Great Flood of ‘93, and there were no gnats. Then again, that crested in August, and gnats are a springtime pest. 

I’ve become able to identify gnat bites (a circular bruise surrounding a small bump). I got these bites while Gary and I were working in the in-laws’ garden. He finally had to resort to working with a handkerchief pinned to his face by his glasses. (It was just thin enough for him to see through.)

Damn you, gnats, for making me want hot and dry weather over my lovely soft rain.

Chicago Rivalry

Chicago and Saint Louis have a rivalry. I believe it originated when Chicagoans got tired of being a first-class city with a second-rate baseball team, while having to exist near Saint Louis, a second-rate city (a hard truth) with a first-class baseball team. The injustice makes them bitter.

But, since then, the Cubs won the Worlds Series, and good for them. Given that the St. Louis Cardinals are in the baseball playoffs, like, every other year, the Cubs can win one. I will allow it.

And now, so soon after, just as that feeling of Chicago baseball superiority was beginning to fade then BAM! Like a body slam against the boards, Saint Louis gets another first-class sports team when the Blues hockey team finally wins the Stanley Cup. Will Chicago be magnanimous, or will they start to feel insecure again?

Opera: Fire Shut Up In My Bones

First off, yup, trigger warning:

I loved the second half of this opera. Let's talk about the second half. It was poetry. There was ballet. Everything came together. Of course that was all at the expense of the first half, which needed to be devoted to setup and exposition, not so much with the parallels and the poetry that were to come.

The author was there. I spotted him before the curtain call, adjusting his socks. (Or touching his shins for luck: not sure.)

The music was jazzy and rambling, the singing was amazing. It's just that first half ... well, you know the bad stuff is coming for him as a child, so there's a lot of time in the first half spent worrying about every male relative. (I would apologize to Uncle Paul for doubting him, but I think the source book might implicate him.)

Now, in the second half, there are two ballets straightforward enough that even I "got it," and a very enjoyable part about getting laid. (I had no idea my "honey" had such restorative powers.)

I wonder how the author of the book feels about having his book turned into an opera? In a book, you can document your therapy in detail and it doesn't turn into a facile "Let it go" aria. Anne and I both want to read the book now.

Overall, I liked it ... no, can't "like" an opera based on someone's sexual abuse. I found it moving.

Dentist Post Stanley Cup Win

My neighborhood was in chaos Wednesday night after the St. Louis Blues won the Stanley Cup, finally, or more accurately, for the first time ever. Great vindication for my dad who so wanted to see the Blues win that he bought season tickets for many years.

So my corner of the metro area had fireworks coming from every direction, people just standing around hollering, car horns blaring, etc.

Then, Thursday morning I went to the dentist, and after I walked in I heard the dentist say “LGB,” shorthand for “Let’s Go Blues.”

Odd. Because the Blues have no where else to go, unless the plan is to have them win the Stanley Cup every year. But the dentist is enjoying the afterglow, and deliberately tuned the office radio station to the station that is playing nothing but “Gloria,” the Blues’ theme song.  I heard Gloria every fifteen minutes for an hour and a half.

A Recommendation: Gentleman Jack

The TV show Gentleman Jack is based on Anne Lister’s diaries. Anne was a famous 19th century  traveler and lesbian.   I understand that the actual diaries are heavier on the finance plots and lighter on the lesbian seduction plots. As for the TV show, I don’t care about either plot, which is odd because I love a good plot. It’s only rarely that I like anything character-driven.

That’s why I’m surprised I have fallen in love with this giant lesbian character from Halifax. (That’s Halifax in the UK, not Canada: you should know that before you start watching or the travel implications can get very confusing.)

This woman - or at least the way this woman is portrayed by this actress, Suranne Jones, is constantly described as “fascinating,” and she is.  I can’t take my eyes off of her, specifically the way she gets out of carriages. They need to create a Special Emmy Award for Getting Out of Carriages. I lean forward in my chair every time a carriage stops because boom, the carriage door opens and this giant gangly woman pops out, hits the ground, levitates over a curb or front stair and bursts through a door in one awkward yet graceful motion. It’s like if Abraham Lincoln could fly. It’s like when John Belushi dances in the Blues Brothers movie. It’s impossibly graceful.

Also, I never skip the opening credits because she gets dressed in the opening credits and it’s sexy as hell. I don’t know how actual lesbians can stand it.

A Recommendation: Sloggers

A few months back I was at the local nursery, looking for gardening shoes, because it's discouraging taking ones nice leather shoes into the garden. Back when I thought my leather shoes were made of rubber, this didn't bother me, but since those shoes fell apart I was down to my nice leather shoes or my signed Barenaked Ladies Crocs.

She said, "We don't have any, but I would recommend these" and these are those:

Sloggers. Comfy, plus, you can keep wear them out to lunch if you've hosed them off.

It has be a good shoe if I'm going to enclose my heels and risk blisters - and there have been no blisters.

This Week's Mystery

Last Saturday morning Gary read me the story of Everett Palmer Jr., the man who died in police custody and his body was missing the heart, lungs and throat. Before the end of the day that mystery was solved (evidently that's standard procedure for the police autopsy:  just take out your pertinent parts and send you back home).

However, I have not yet heard the end of this story: months after he went missing, former mouseketeer Dennis Day's body was found in his own home. So many unanswered questions in that story. Who is looking after the partner now? Who loans a car to strangers? How did the police not find the body in the initial search of the home? And with all horrifying stories, how do I keep this from happening to me?

Impending Rally / Riot

Game Six of the Stanley Cup Hockey Final is tonight, at the hockey venue in downtown Saint Louis, and everyone in Saint Louis* wants them to win this particular game because then they'd finally win the championship, and win it at home. They could win it in Game Seven, but then it would be in Boston.

*Everyone. I was in a work meeting Friday, and The Hockey Game should have been on the Agenda. Someone even played Gloria on their cell phone.

The City Powers have been showing the game on the display at the hockey arena, and at the big screen by the ballpark, but now they've taken three square blocks of downtown and devoted them to a watch party.

I would go, because I'd like to hear the noise the city makes when they win or if they lose, but I feel this is fundamentally Not A Good Idea. There's going to be a bad call (say, the referees will blatantly ignore a trip or a hand pass) and there will be thousands of angry, angry people in a small space.