I’m not happy about this one. IFCC is our neighborhood community meeting place-art gallery-theater space-children’s theater space and much more. They do great work and need our support.

wm

You know how many times the Nirvana video “Smells Like Teen Spirit” has been viewed? 11 million, eight hundred twenty-nine thousand, one hundred and 12 times, that’s how many. So far. Ah, what’s not to love about anarchist cheerleaders? So. So, so, so. Because I’m in an Oregonian-bashing kinda mood today… Did you realize the writers and editors there didn’t write shit about Nirvana until Kurt died? (more…)

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

— E.E. Cummings (1894-1962)

You know, this Friday (that would be May 9th, 2008) it will be eleven years since Hockey God and I went on our first date. I didn’t really believe in Modern Love, or magic, until I met him. Now I do.

Happy anniversary, you big hunk. I’m playing bunco that night, you’re on your own. (PS — not really. I mean, you’ll have the kids and all.)

love,

wm

“What lies behind us, and what lies beyond us, are small matters compared to what lies within us.”

— anonymous

Not reviewing, but reading:

Listening to:
X, Brooks & Dunn, Amy Winehouse, more X, Tom Petty, classical, jazz, Steve Winwood (Spencer Davis Group), Joe Cocker, anything to make me feel better.

Watching:
We Own the Night, more Wire (season 2 still), Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Player, Bob Roberts, Michael Clayton, General Hospital, Dancing with the Stars, baby!

For dinner we had:
Homemade pizza people, with cheese for hair and olives for eyes, noses and mouths; fresh, organic asparagus roasted with a little olive oil, salt and pepper. Chocolate brownie cake for dessert.

I’m looking at:
My kids playing, my husband’s smile, our cats playing, the flowers blooming outside.

Wanting:
To feel all better.

All of those new, pretty Flickr pix over there on the sidebar are courtesy of my snap-happy daughter and her father. We have… Disneyland (from February? Didn’t I already post those?). More flower photos. The Pearl District. And I think that’s it?

Happy Sunday, y’all. I’m feeling okay. Thanks for the nice notes and e-mails. Off to watch Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters. Guilty, guilty pleasures — they make life so complete!

love,

wm

Do you love Yvonne even half as much as I do? No, I don’t think you do, because I love her THIS MUCH. Her obsession with bean dip and Rick Springfield (not in that order. I don’t think, anyway), her funny hubs and kids, especially her charming little kick-ass daughter. She is so damn sexy — all the time I’m thinking, honey. You are gorgeous! Go look in the mirror! Also, she takes superb photos. She needs a little lovin’ right now and frankly, so do I.

Plus we are Thyroid Sisters. And now, being older, I can one-up her: I have Other Troubles. (Is that vague enough? I’m sorry, but I cannot be specific. You can e me if you want all the grim details.)

She sez:

Dear You,

Me

I’m asking you — do the same for me, would you? Because I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired.

wm

internets, i would like to blog, but i still feel like hell. Also, why did I work today? Zip said, It will be too much. Steve said, It will be too much. They were right. Again.

Finally watched Juno, it was good. And started in on Season Two of the Wire, which, when you’re coming out of anesthetic, is just not so much fun to watch. Dead bodies and all. The new episode of the Office last night made me sad. I love the Office — do not make me sad, Office. You are there to entertain, got it?

I can’t concentrate on books — the words go all swimmy together.

Maybe it’s the anesthetic talking, I’ve got no idea.

Off to change back into p.j.’s. Leave me notes if you want, I’ll check in later.

yours,

wm