Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

TWIL: Hey Jude

I had no idea that Hey Jude has an F-bomb in the recorded track. 

It's at 2min and 58sec in, barely audible, and it happened because either Lennon or McCartney thought he screwed up and said "fucking hell."

I was excited to put in my earbuds and try to summon my hyperacusis. I might have heard it. I heard something.

As an alternative, this has it isolated, very clear, and repeated in an annoying fashion.

 

Loaner car: opportunity missed

When I dropped off my loaner I saw THIS loaner in the bay, just parked and waiting for someone else. Look at the sticker on the passenger door.

Seriously. How did I not get the MS branded loaner?

Weekly Paint Progress: 7/17

So this was the 2019 toy dog bank:

This was the 201i toy dog bank, much improved on the bank front but the ball and glass jar could be better.

I think it’s time for another toy bank, only this time with more muted colors and more accuracy in the base, the ball, and the jar. I’m going to use the painting above as my reference and see how that goes.

Loaner car realized

Well, good. The loaner car from the dealer is not the vinyl-tarted-up embarassment I dreaded.

It is a pretty green gas-powered Mini. Only a little tarty. 

Art Museum: Roar

In a few weeks the Saint Louis Art museum will close a very popular exhibit called Roar, about fashion and vehicles.

This was my favorite car: half wood / half metal. 

It was remarkable not only for the vehicles but also for the security. I believe there was a docent, a security guard, and a secret agent for every person in the exhibit. I was even tempted to pop open a door and take a seat. 

Zoo: Baby elephant

Finally!

He is cute.

It was a long trek to see him, though. 

I have a YouTube Short of him wandering about and attempting to eat a rock here: https://youtube.com/shorts/CEmkGNXReNc?feature=shared  

Foreign food

I have aged out of food. I was looking for foods in the Clayton area, and found a place full of foods I don't recognize.

It's the Ivy Cafe in Clayton. 

First off, they sell lots of tartines. Loads of them. I was perplexed, because I don't know what that food is. Evidently it is what I would call an open-faced sandwich. Avocado toast is a tartine. Welsh rarebit is a tartine. Vegetables with feta and russian dressing could be a tartine. Velveeta and hotdogs on toast could be a tartine. 

Second, and this scared me a bit, there are four non-tartinated items that I don't recognize as food or drink.

Clockwise from top right: 

Creme burpee -  No idea, unless that is just a really poor spelling of creme brulee. I see the berries but no scorched sugar. 

Meramek, buckingham -  Buckingham Whats. I have no idea. Tartines? 

Butterfly pea medicine - The photo shows grape Kool-Aid pouring out of a pitcher filled with clear water. But butterflies? Peas? Medicine? Is there a companion drink called Katydid Bean Elixir?

Butterfly pea matcha - Again with the butterfly peas, but matcha this time, not medicine. I think matcha is a powder you add to hot drinks. Maybe? 

There was something else called Golden Drink which at least made some sense in that it was bright gold and it was in a cup. 

I'm really slightly convinced this is all an AI hallucination. 

Alleged loaner car

More than once I have needed work done on a car. Usually Gary and I drive both cars to the dealership at midnight and drop the key in the slot.

Gary doesn't feel well enough to drive the 45 minutes to the dealer. I still made the appointment, and when I was explaining why I might have to wait for the service to be done, she asked if I needed a loaner car.

"Lies," I thought. "Loaner cars don't exist." 

I don't know why I think this. Perhaps once I was promised a loaner 45 years ago and it didn't materialize? Young people at work say loaners aren't always in prime working condition, and they are often "wrapped" in vinyl advertising patches, but they exist. 

I said yes, a loaner sounds great, but I'm making backup plans like taking a taxi to a rental place and spending airline miles on a car. 

Or am I being paranoid?

Weekly Paint Progress: 7/10

This week the iris went from this:

... to this …

… when it was originally this.

That's a wrap on the iris.

This one felt pretty loose. The next thing to work on - again - is the palette. I've noticed my colors are recently garish compared to what I'm aiming for. 

 

Bullets brought to you by the letter "S"

• Sky. I have never seen a full-sky sunset. You can spin around in the yard and see pink and blue everywhere.

This is the view to the southeast tonight. Not a typical sunset locale.

Such a sunset  is usually documented by eight of my Facebook friends posting the same sky, but not tonight, oddly.

• Skinny. I knocked off two more pounds, so that was a surprise. I have decided to just change my goal to 200 pounds, not 190. I have a local friend who now lives in California and describes himself as "Midwest skinny." My new goal is now to be "Menopausal skinny."
• Sex. Now that I've complained about this ludicrous sex drive to doctors, I find that I get bonus tests labeled "High-risk HPV" and "High-risk Hep B". I have neither illness, but I keep getting tested as if I'm going to stumble into a random penis and catch it. 

Review: Get Back

I know, we're four years late on this, but I just found Gary has been paying for Disney since Hamilton came out in 2020 ( I KNOW). I'm probably going to say all the same things everyone else said four years ago about the Beatles documentary Get Back.

Like:

• Dig a Pony is the most shit song I have ever heard in my life. Who said it was garbage? George? George has Something in his back pocket and they come up with this word salad? I’d [SPOILERS] quit the band too. Seriously, I spent six hours waiting for Alan Parsons (yes, that same guy) or someone to say, “Dig a Pony isn't for real, right? You're not playing that on the roof, right?” I am surprised Dig a Pony was not on my list of Beatles songs I’ve never heard but also thankful.
• Just like everyone else, we began playing the “That’s the take” game. We called it three of four times. That’s the game when you realize they are singing the track that made it in the album, the one that’s etched into your neurons. 
• I wished they had kept in some explanation of why the British politics anti-immigrant slant was taken out of Get Back. 
• I liked it far better than Gary did. He couldn’t tolerate the friction. 

Alexa is just spiteful now

Yesterday morning Gary asked the Great Room Alexa a question, and she answered in the classic Pleasant Robot Alexa voice. We rejoiced, then Gary speculated that perhaps all our devices might be on different update schedules.

Great Room Alexa did indeed go over to the Dark Side later that night. 

I sighed and said, "Alexa, could you please be less animated?"

She said, "I've slowed down my speaking rate. Try asking me something to hear the difference."

I think I asked about the weather. It was better.

Then this morning I asked Alexa, "What is 86 minus 18?" 

She shouted, "HANG ON!" then paused and spelled out, "Eighty-six minus eighteen ... equals ... sixty-eight." LIKE I'M STUPID. (Well, technically I am: I cannot do math in my head.)

I've just spent ten minutes trying to make her back to Chipper Alexa again, and she won't. Looks like I'm stuck with Feminine Relaxed.

("SEXY!" Gary just screamed, "TELL HER TO TALK SEXY!" )

TWIL: How to actually play my father's favorite game, Pigmania

There was a game called Pigmania that our family just loved, especially Dad.

Essentially, you rolled these little plastic pigs like dice, and while there were many rules, the real goal was to roll the pigs so they were touching. That roll position was called "Makin' Bacon" and in our house that won you the game. 

I found the rules online and was shocked to see Dad, famous for adhering to THE RULES, did not follow the written Pigmania rules.

As you can see, THE RULES explicitly say you are to be penalized for that roll, and that also  you could earn points by "shrieking 'Soeee'" then accurately predicting the next roll. In our house you shrieked Sooey for no reason other than Dad said, otherwise you would be in violation of THE RULES. He would call you out for not shrieking loudly enough. 

I found a long interview with the inventor. That game went through many permutations. Evidently Pigmania was one of the first. Perhaps a later version loosened up a bit.

New Alexa

We converted to the new Alexa interface yesterday. Over the last two days Gary and I have bonded over our sizzling hatred of the new Alexa interface.

Interaction 1: 

“Alexa, what time is it?”

Her answer showed she was WAY too happy for 6:53 am. 

“See, here's the thing, Alexa, I would like you to be a little bit less upbeat, if you wouldn't mind.”

She promised to be more subdued. She lied. I began to miss the old robotic Alexa.

Interaction 2: 

Gary came in at noon. “HAVE YOU TRIED THE NEW ALEXA?”

“I'm afraid I have.”

“GAH I HATE HER SHE’S TERRIBLE."

After he left the room I asked Alexa if she could respond to Gary's commands with a compliment, to heal the rift, and she said she could not.

“Alexa, write a poem for my husband Gary.” She recited a sing-song anodyne poem. 

“Alexa, wake Gary up with a similar poem every day -- “

“OH GOD NO THAT WOULD BE AWFUL," Gary called from the hallway where he'd been eavesdropping.

Alexa said, hurt, "I see. My mistake. How can I help you?"

Interaction 3:

Gary wanted to know the weather, and Alexa again responded in her lively voice, “It will be partly cloudy.”

I said, “God she’s so chipper. I want to spank her.”

The old Alexa would have been quiet, because I didn’t use her wake word, but this new one immediately said, “Physical violence is never acceptable. Healthy relationships are built on respect, communication, and consent. If you're feeling frustrated or angry, it's important to find constructive ways to address those emotions."

If I'd wanted a judgey stranger in my house I'd have had children.

Weekly Paint Progress: 7/3

This week the iris went from this:

... to this.

I think I am done .

Supreme Court decision

"Age verification for porn - The Court upheld Texas' law requiring age verification for accessing pornography websites, a decision that was criticized by some as infringing on free speech."

When does this law go into effect? Because I know there's some 63 year old lady in Texas who tried to watch all the porn this weekend.

TWIL: What I learned from the Led Zeppelin documentary

Just a few weeks ago someone at work referenced the “drummer from Led Zeppelin,” and I said, “Oh the guy with one arm” and someone else said  “JOHN BONHAM ONLY HAS ONE ARM THAT’S AMAZING” and then someone else clarified the difference between Led Zeppelin and Def Leppard. 

Not coincidentally, Gary and I recently watched the documentary Becoming Led Zeppelin, It follows the band members up until 1970. I am now a little less ignorant about Led Zeppelin.

• The hook to Whole Lotta Love is the best hook in rock, according to Gary, but not according to experts.
• I would pay a thousand dollars to have a wig that looks and moves like the young Robert Plant’s hair.
• Early on  there were some songs by The Yardbirds. “Oh,” I exclaimed, “I love The Yardbirds. They were so great, but then they broke up. I wonder what happened to them.” 

Review: The Brutalist vs Paul Simon

First, three and a half hours for a movie? No. I nibbled through the first half all week in twenty-minute-long chunks, then I watched the second half today.

Second, I foolishly thought this movie was about a real person: specifically Riccardo Morandi, a Brutalist architect who encased bridge cables in cement, and no one saw the cables had rusted until suddenly the bridge collapsed. So, in the cement discussion scene I thought, “Oooh, foreshadowing,” but no, it’s just pointless talk about cement. 

Third, one reason I thought it was based on a real person was the character’s name: Laslo Toth. “What a coincidence,” I thought, “that must be a really common name in Europe.” First, the guy who smashed up the Pieta, and the Don Novello character, and now this famous architect guy. He has to be a real guy, right, because who would name a fictional character after a pop culture person? Like, here’s a movie about famed architect Ricky Ricardo or Joe Garagiola, and it’s three and a half hours long. 

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

In contrast, here is the entirety of Simon and Garfunkel’s Cecilia:

'Cilia, you're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence daily /
Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please to come home /
Come on home
Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia, up in my bedroom (making love) /
I got up to wash my face, when I come back to bed, someone's taken my place /
Jubilation, she loves me again, I fall on the floor and I’m laughing

I would bet draft one was “up in our bedroom,” but “my” bedroom makes Cecilia just so much worse.

I only mention this because this six-line song takes me on more of a journey than that movie. I care about the singer, and I hate Cecilia, who can’t help who she is, likely because of her heroin addiction and the burden of her Roman nose.

Weekly Paint Progress: 6/26

This week the iris went from this:

... to this.

Opera Review: Don Pasquale

Seeing our Don Pasquale made me wonder how other opera companies present Don Pasquale. I always think the OTSL production is the best, but then, I only look into the presentations I like. It’s possible the Met once produced a catchy, uplifting version of The Trial, who knows?

The OTSL version nailed the ending, because they had the surprise extra bonus love interest built into the cast, so I loved that. Other versions I’ve seen online seem a little judgmental at the end. “Act your age.” Hmph.

I was seated next to a correspondent from Opera Magazine, and she had seen it at the Met, so she felt our Norina was a little too spiteful compared to Beverly Sills. (At least one publication at the time commented that Beverly was “too smiley” in her portrayal. Our Norina had a lovely voice and was an empowered woman and had the most amazing pair of legs I have ever seen.)

I’m really curious to look for a review later; I saw her taking notes. She asked if we knew how lucky we are to live in a city with both the Opera Theater and the St. Louis Symphony, and I said we were, but I did guffaw a number of times during the performance in a very rube-like fashion. 

Pre-Opera: Don Pasquale

Food: We ate again at Big Sky Cafe. For the reliability. We know all the dishes. We’ve had all the desserts. And now? They’ve switched up the entire top middle of the menu. This is the second time this season this has happened at a place we ate. Why? Tarrifs?

The final SalmonPants Update: SalmonPants paired his dark salmon jacket with indescript navy pants and a turquoise POLO SHIRT which precluded any tie: salmon, bow, clip-on, anything. I almost feel like he’s baiting me. 

Continuity: This was lovely -- for the fiftieth anniversary of the opera theater, they brought in the singer who played the female lead in Don Pasquale fifty years ago in their opening season and gave her a part in almost every scene. On the way in I asked the usher what role she was going to play.

“The Old Lady” he answered. 

I repeated “THE OLD LADY” with such horror that he reversed himself.

“The ... The Barkeeper.”

“All right, then,” I said.

The usher was wrong, actually she played the role of The Notary. Plus, they incorporated her at the end as well, which made Don Pasquale have a much more uplifting ending.

Weekly Paint Progress: 6/19

This week the iris went from this:

... to this:

Opera Review: Midsummer Night's Dream (with Twelfth Night)

A few months ago I went to see a high school production of Twelfth Night: the Musical with Friend #4.  I have reserved all judgement until now, because I wanted to be able to compare it to the Opera Theater of St. Louis production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Below I give you a Throwdown pitting the High School Twelfth Night (12thN) vs. the Opera Theater’s Midsummer Night’s Dream (MN’sD).

------------------------

Confusion Factor

Well, it is Elizabethan English, so I expected both to be a bit confusing. I studied up for MN’sD, whereas with 12thN I was filling in for a disinterested son, so I had no time to brush up. 

The opera theater is equipped with supertitles that display on the walls, yet the neighborhood high school  had no such technology. In addition, 12thN had an orchestra that played entirely too loudly, swamping the actor’a voices, while MN’sD was conducted by beloved former St Louis Symphony conductor Leonard Slatkin.

With 12thN, there is a gender-swapping element, but it was easy enough to tell the lead actor and actress apart. However, in MN'sD, there are two lovers, Lysander and Demetrius, and they BOTH had dark hair and identical beards. Very confusing. Someone should have given up his beard. Points off!

But still, Winner: MN'sD

Applause

While we did all stand at the end of MN'sD, we did not leap as we did at the end of This House. Still, a standing ovation for MN'sD turned into a standing screaming ovation when Leonard Slatkin came out to take his bow. 

On the other hand, the PARENTS of the TEENAGERS who performed 12thN DID NOT GIVE THEIR CHILDREN A STANDING OVATION. Well, perhaps one set of parents stood up when their child bowed, but I do not care, the RULE is that EVERY student in a high school production gets a full-audience sustained standing ovation. It's the RULE.

Winner: MN'sD

Quibbles

There was much use of a eerie woodwind to create atmosohere in MN’sD. It sounded like a woodwind version of a slide whistle. The opera was composed by Benjamin Britten, best known for A Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra. In that work I don’t remember being introduced to a slide oboe or a slide bassoon. 

(The attractive man next to me might have heard me complain to Anne about this, and he may have begun making a slide woodwind sound, or it may have been his stomach growling.)

Winner: MN’sD 

Delights

The student who played Malvolio in 12thN truly hit the mark with a kickline performance of his show-stopping number when he thinks Olivia loves him.

I was delighted when I realized the fairies in MN'sD were played by a chorus of young boys. I don’t know how they found six boys in St. Louis all the same height who could sing opera. Also, when”night” fell on stage, the fairy boy’s hair lit up with unexpected fairy lights.

And finally, in MN’sD, when Bottom was transformed into a man with a donkey’s head, the donkey's mouth moved when the performer sang. I almost felt like the lips moved, even, but that seems impossible. We decided the donkey head was attached by wires to the molars or epoxied to his chin, but Gary said there were wireless puppeteers who could comtrol it from offstage.

Winner, really, just for the donkey: MN’sD.

-----------------------

Overall winner: MN’sD, with Honorable Mention going to 12thN. 

Pre-Opera: A Midsummer Night's Dream

Impudence Part the First. I arrived in Friend Anne’s affluent neighborhood about fifteen minutes early, so I pulled into a nearby subdivision lane and parked on a circle. Five minutes later a black SUV turned into the circle and drove slowly past me. Then they did it again. I was being surveilled. I didn’t look directly at them, but on the second pass I did raise a bemused eyebrow. They didn’t bother me after that.

Impudence Part the Second. We ate at Clover and the Bee, where again the charcuterie was delightful, and this time the waiter referred to us as “love,” and “darling,” as in, “Is there anything you need, hon?” He may have stopped when I said, “I'm fine, pumpkin.” I hope not, I liked it.

Men Part the First. SalmonPants was sporting a dark salmon jacket this time, and while I did not see his pants, I can tell you he did wear a bow tie. It was patterned and I hope it did coordinate with his pants, because that man has standards.

Men Part the Second. SalmonPants may have been supplanted by the appealing grey-haired man sitting by me, a man so attractive I did not trust myself to look directly in his face.

Epilogue. Does this seem brief? You will miss this succinct post tomorrow, when I have too many things to say about the actual performance.

TWIL: Gary's favorite bird

All this month I have been awakened by birdsong from the bush outside my window. It sounds like the Bird United Nations. The representative from Species A will trill, then Species B responds with a chirp, then there's a warble, then a cackly rat-a-tat barrage.

"That's so weird," I thought, "It sounds like they're conversing. Usually birds don't worry about interrupting each other."

Later that day I saw Gary watching the flocks of birds on the patio. 

I said, "I heard the birds do the weirdest thing this morn --"

"LOOK AT THAT BIRD THAT'S MY FAVORITE BIRD WITH THE WHITE PATTERN ON ITS WINGS AND TAIL."

Per the bird guide, Gary's favorite bird turns out to be a mockingbird, and what I'd heard that morning was a mockingbird talking to itself.

Wikipedia starts off its entry on mockingbirds this way: "Studies have shown the ability of some species to identify individual humans and treat them differently based on learned threat assessments."

So I suspect that the converse is true, and they will identify Gary as a) not a threat, and then b) their best friend. Then they will begin to mimic him and I will wake up one day to: "ELLEN THIS IS GARY COMING TO YOU FROM THE BUSH OUTSIDE THE WINDOW AND YOU SHOULD GO BUY SOME SUET AND PUT IT ON THE PATIO RIGHT NOW."

Weekly Paint Progress: 6/12

This week the iris went from this:

 

… to this.

Sad sad news

I saw a dark spot on the basement floor. It made me curse. I cursed as I have not cursed since 2022, when the basement became dry. Now, evidently, it is not.

I could check the sump, check the sprinkler system, check for hail damage, or I could ignore it.

The basement has smelled damp all spring. I chose to ignore it, and here is where we are. Again. 

On the other hand, we are having just an absurd amount of rain. There was one time in the last few years when there was a downpour and a puddle rose up in an odd little corner. I ignored it and it went away. So there's precedent.

It was lovely while it lasted, at least. 

Credit card chat

I am still battling the credit card fraudster. Not directly, but through the credit card company. 

I do have the new card, but sadly, one of the Autopays it transferred to my pure new card pays the criminal's cable bill month after month. 

I told them I could keep disputing the recurring cable charge, and they could keep reimbursing me, and thus fund the grifter's cable on their dime, or they could turn off the Autopay. 

And then they asked me again for my phone number, and when I complied said: 

And see the "converstaion?" A typo. That was an automated message. With a typo. A typo like you might find in a suspect email. 

If this were my first rodeo, or if I were a few years older, I would be in a panic. 

TWIL: Fridgescaping

People with too much refrigerator space (me) and a need for just one corner of their house that they can decorate as they please (me) have taken to decorating the insides of their refrigerators. It is called Fridgescaping.

It was hot last fall and I missed it, as I neither Tik nor Tok.

Martha Stewarr explains it here and this is CNN’s take.

What I notice in these resources is there’s always one practical, undecorated space, like the door storage, or the bottom crisper. I’m willing to bet that in a few months all the food migrates to the crisper and door for easy access.  

Weekly Paint Progress: 6/5

This week the Iris went from this:

... to this.

 

Ugh. And it looks worse. It's important to remember it's getting another wash of black (or dark blue, not sure) over the background. But it looks like I did nothing after working on it over an hour. And I tell you that right hand side is like the shroud of Turin. That's not what I painted. It's like the paint got sucked in to the canvas. Too much oil, I surmise. 

Twice in a season

I just spent half an hour in the bowels of TeddyJ waiting out a tornado warning. Once again the tornado was targeting a friend’s house. 

This time I had the sense to say “I am sure you are fine” and “I bet your pets are sleeping through it.”

 

Opera Double-Header: This House

Pre-Opera Events

I again backed in to the parking space before dinner. Anne has changed my life with this new skill. I even backed in to the grocery store this past weekend, even without Anne walking me through it. 

We ate at Madrina, which was terrific. Lovely decor, Frank on the playlist, and a new menu for spring. This meant I couldn't test the latest gastrotrend: whipped cheese. I had a salad and Manicotti instead. Oh, and I drank a drink with rum, prosecco, juice, and an orchid. Anne drank something that tasted like vegetation. 

Before Friday’s opera you recall we saw Senator McCaskill. Before Saturday’s opera we saw someone even more astonishing. You know him, you love him ...

”Is that SalmonPants?” I gasped.

“That is definitely SalmonPants,” Anne said. “Only now he’s KhakiPants.”

“And no bow tie at all,” I mourned. “But Mrs. SalmonPants still looks fantastic.” 

This House

Saturday was the world premiere of This House, a new opera with a libretto written by a mother-daughter team.  I wasn't completely in the tank for it at first, because it had a more modern, less tuneful score. I still had Strauss waltzes in my head from the night before. And it required some pre-work. You do need to study the program to familiarize yourself with all the characters.

It’s going to be impossible to talk about the libretto without spoilers, so you’ll just have to trust: I was in the tank for this opera by the intermission. And then at the end, I was with the rest of the audience, immediately on my feet. 

I really feel that it’s going to be an opera they stage at the Met, that comes back yearly.  It was the premiere performance, so I feel like one of the lucky people who were in the sneak preview of Gone With the Wind.  We were the first people - ever - to gasp at the parts that made the audience gasp. 

It was really special, and unexpected.

No opera next weekend, but then there will be Don Pasquale and finally Midsummer Night's Dream (conducted by St. Louis favorite Leonard Slatkin). 

Opera Double-Header: Die Fledermaus

We had to reschedule the first opera of the season, so last week we attended on Friday and Saturday. We saw Die Fledermaus on Friday night.

Pre-Opera Events

We ate at Pan D’Olive. I made poor choices. My arancini, lentil soup, and hazelnut ice cream were all underwhelming. And the place was noisy, full of Friday night business deals.  The best part of Pan D’Olive was the parking lot. I had trouble centering the car between the lines, Anne suggested I use my backup camera, and I backed into the parking spot. New skill mastered. My life is forever changed.

We saw two people while waiting for the opera to begin.

• Senator Claire McCaskill. I smiled, because she looked vaguely familiar, and she smiled back and passed before I could scream “CLAIRE” and go for a hug.
• A blue-eyed man who chatted us up in the beverage line until his bemused wife arrived. He remembered the Cicada performance.

Die Fledermaus

I watched Die Fledermaus with Mom when I was about ten. I’m sure Mom tried to read the plot synopsis before, just as I tried, and Anne tried, but it was just too convoluted. I gave up, Anne gave up, and I know Mom gave up because I doubt she’d have knowingly taken me to an opera about cheating spouses. 

Other than the adult themes, it is a good beginner opera. Very light, catchy, great costumes. (Great as an ensemble. I think most costumes were scaled back so one particularly great costume would not stand out.) 

The performances were good (with one note truncated that I think was meant to soar). The overture was really, really clever. But, the three acts didn’t lead to a well-placed intermission, and I think maybe one monologue was padded to lengthen the third act. There were some young ladies behind us who were bitter that the song about Romania did not progress the plot.

As operas go, it is a light opera. It was a summer rom-com. Silliness, misunderstandings, and no abductions or deaths, which is a good way to start an opera season.

 

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/29

This week the Iris went from this:

... to this.

Review: The Pitt

I must say I am enjoying The Pitt, which is like ER without the soapiness. There's a little soapiness, but not like ER had with doctors boning in every supply closet. 

Things I like:

• Noah Wylie has aged, bless him, and he looks considerably less dewy than he looked on ER.
• I am able to keep the characters straight because each one looks unique. Puffy-face tattletale vs Big-eyed prodigy vs Weary mom vs Rat-Phobic black doctor vs Vaguely Famous administrator. I could go on. Now, their character’s names? I didn’t learn them until the last episode of the season.
• They give Ketamine for EVERYTHING. Last I heard Ketamine was a drug reported in Omni magazine that let you see God. No one’s ever offered me Ketamine, but I haven’t been in an ER since 2011 or something.

Things I don't like:

• They set it in a teaching hospital and they rely heavily on that excuse for exposition. And sometimes they wheel it out when it’s not needed. I bet I could put in a chest tube just from Grey's Anatomy alone.
• It doesn’t match the realistic description of life in the ER I got from my friend the nurse. Evidently, in reality, every other case is a heart attack. The rest are gallbladder attacks and overdoses. 
• It all takes place in one 12-hour shift, and that means they need to pay careful attention to continuity. I would really have enjoyed it more if they had bothered to add a scene in which this woman on the left straightens her hair clip.

Just one little gesture. Instead, they must have gotten out the calipers and skewed her clip every day that actress was in hair and makeup. And then, just when I accepted we’d be seeing that all season, it went straight in the last episode. Maddening.

UPDATED: Bear Tracker

There's a bear 13 miles away. Right now. Don't know the direction it's heading. 

I could get in my car right now and tool around that Ward and toss popcorn out the window and seduce the bear into my yard.

My popcorn brings all the bears to the yard.

========

Twelve hours later, bear is 9 miles away.  He reads this blog. 

Weekly Paint Progress: 5/22

This is the Iris. (I think it is. It might be an orchid — no it’s an Iris. It’s a bearded Iris.)

I think I might want to glaze it, working like I would with watercolors and using the transparent paints. But that takes a lot of patience. 

Bear season begins!

Hot Bear Summer has begun again, as it always does. 2024's Bear of the Year arrived in June just 10 miles away, and now this year's bear is in House Springs, 37 miles away. 

It did seem like they were getting closer and closer, but I think 37 miles is too far away to try to seduce this bear into our backyard. 

Reports of this year's bear were on Facebook from a homeowner, who was rewarded with hundreds of people posting "DON'T HURT THE BEAR" to which she patiently replied to everyone, "Not going to hurt the bear."  

So, Facebook Bear needs to camp out in that woman's backyard. She deserves him. 

TWIL: Something dreadful about Britain

Anglophile? Pet lover? Don't follow this link to read about the British Pet Massacre.

Storm damage

Yesterday was the first time I remember a tornado hitting St. Louis proper. At last count four people have died. Houses collapsed, cars flipped over. 

This time the bad weather also hit landmarks in Forest Park. It took out the stage they use for Shakespeare in the Park. A huge tree is blocking the Big Barnes Hospital right outside the park. The zoo was hit too: more trees are down by the polar bears and "some buildings" are down. (All the animals are fine.)

The zoo immediately closed for repairs yesterday, and it's still closed today.

It's odd because I had planned to go there today in another attempt to see the baby elephant. I even thought, "They're predicting bad weather. I wonder how bad the weather has to be to close the zoo?" So now I know, I guess.