W2 - Wendy to the Second Power

If you're a mutha, happy day to you. My mom and the rest of my family will be over around lunchtime to celebrate the day, and my birthday. I got to choose the lunch venue, so I chose (heh heh heh) Bone Daddy's. I can guarantee there will be no twee roses and ruffles there! Plus, in an example of family mind-melding, my brother had just sighed to my mom, "oh that BBQ on TV looks good" just before I called. I also got Mom flowers and chocolates, since at this late stage in her life she has two of everything an old lady could want... But she loves flowers, so woo hoo.

Childless spinsters like me are right out of luck on this holiday. I've got the requisite two cats of a writer too, so I'm really working the stereotype. And my cats, the lazy parasites, have never yet given me even a card on this day! Well, maybe if I started giving them an allowance...?

Naw, they'd just spend it on catnip.

Then I read about the powerful effect of these high-dollar, very creepy baby dolls. Really! They're individually airbrushed to have sweet little cheeks. They have human hair and are modeled on real children. But man, I find homunculi of all types so weirdly off-putting. Women are collecting these things, big-time. True, unless you have the homuncuphobia, holding a real baby or a fake baby can trigger hormones that bathe you in contentment and well-being. I do get that with real babies, plus I'm almost always able to get them to talk to me (really, even the parents crowd around and say "I've never heard her/him do that before!"). But these fake babies? eewwwwhhhh

But if I was to get one, here's a blonde, new baby girl. ( I'll hide the big photo behind the cut... )

My buddy J4 and I went to Cape Cod last week, staying in a darling little community called Craigville, which is near the Centerville Beach, one of the nicest beaches on the Cape, I learned.

Ironically, the beach was not a big draw once we got there. Go figure! It just didn't feel or smell much like being at the beaches I was used to. No fishy seaweed smell. No ozone in the air. The sand was composed of ground-down oyster shells, so the walking was actually sharp to the feet. J4 never goes barefoot, even in her house, so she only walked through the sand once and never again. I visited the ocean-- actually, Nantucket Sound -- more than she did. I even went late to one of my classes so I could take a quick dip and say I'd swum on that coast. It was a popular family beach, lots of folks, and also neat that it was a private beach for Craigville people with a nice Craigville Beach Center. But it wasn't very tidal, cooler than I expected, and it got deep fast!


The people enjoying a sunny afternoon on Craigville beach.

The Craigville community, composed mostly of cute little or impressively huge summer homes with lush flowers interspersed with the more "rustic" (read: not upgraded with AC or planted with flowerbeds) cottages and buildings owned by the Christian Church folks who owned the Craigville Conference Center, was quiet and sleepy and felt very safe. We slept with windows open, said "hi" to all the folks we passed on the street, etc. There were no stores and it was a drive to get to Hyannis (6 miles) or Centerville (3 miles) and we didn't rent a car. So we spent most of the week hanging out on the breezy porch of our cottage or hiking the streets up and down to go to class or get our meals in the Craigville Inn.

Imagine: a week with no AC, no TV, no radio, no email/Web browsing, no snacks, no sodas, and no driving. It was like living on planet Mars! But first, we had to get from Boston in a tiny Cessna, like a VW bus with wings! ( Read More and See Photos... )

My family has a clump of birthdays in April/May -- six out of seven in the immediate family! My mom got her gift from me early when we went to a performance of THE LION KING on-stage at Bass Concert Hall.

So we've had birthday brunches for the past two Sundays. Last week, I blew my phlegmatic and eccentric brother Andrew away with a gift he was dying for but didn't even know existed. He's the guy who's a Vincent Price completist. It's his goal to own a copy of everything with Vincent Price in it. He's already got all three books written by the man, plus his daughter's biography. He's got about 25 DVDs or video tapes of various movies.

For this birthday, I went online to Movies Unlimited (who, despite their claim of the widest selection of old films, doesn't bother to actually produce them for sale -- always claiming they have to back-order because their blank VHS tapes are on order, and some things don't come on DVD) and got a DVD of an unholy piece of crap: THE BRADY BUNCH VARIETY HOUR. The Brady Bunch! He's watched it and claims it's the bestest thing evah. It has the family, with a fake Jan*, in glittering leisure suits dancing and singing. Vincent Price has a few minutes as an apartment neighbor who seeks ghosts (there seems to be a sitcom running through part of each show).

But the surprise Andrew got was a DollTV limited edition action figure I found on amazon.com. Who knew there was a Vincent Price doll? Andrew didn't until he opened his gift. It's VP dressed as the benign magician in THE RAVEN, with Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff, a story inspired by Edgar Allen Poe. Today Andrew showed me scenes from the movie (which of course he owns) and just how authentic the clothing on the doll is. White brocade shirt? Check. Purple, fur-trimmed cape? Check. Ornate brooch? Check. Funky, scarf-wrapped fez? Check. Prissy Vincent Price mustache? Check.


The Vincent Price action figure -- one of only 5000 made. Next to it is the Brady Bunch Comedy Hour DVD I also gave Andrew this year.

After the meal at TGIF off Slaughter Lane, my 13-year-old niece and 14-year-old nephew convinced me they really needed some shopping, and the Southpark JP Penney's was just around the corner....( Read More... )

Brandy and friends threw Matt a 39th birthday party a few weekends back. Now that my email address has been updated in his Evites, I got invited again! (Matt regular invites 70+ people to his parties.) This one was not at the 900 sq foot home in Crestview, but at the sprawling home of Raj and MaryRose off 2222. It was fun because I recognized several people as other folks in the Matt circle I see only at his parties. Plus I learned that Matt and Brandy are going to be married* -- woo hoo!

And it was three-degrees-of-separation time too. A guy named Sid knew folks from Rice University, including Randy Paul, the math PhD who used to live in Austin and who is the reason I even know Matt. Another woman there knew Mary Willis Walker, who's doing so well now that she has a charitable organization that does good works! jipp and I talked with others about the wonders of the Toyota Prius...

And Russ the_bus was there with Poh-Lim and baby Annetta. That was a treat! She's growing up so fast! A year old and cute as she can be.

( See for yourself... )

Wow, the theatrical version of Disney's THE LION KING is quite a treat! It's playing at UT's Performing Arts Center through March 24, and I highly recommend it. It's pricey ($77 per ticket for the floor / orchestra, when all fees and handling charges are tacked on), but really special. I took my lame old mom to see it Friday for her birthday, and enjoyed it a lot.

I never saw the 1994 film THE LION KING. Just knew generally it was an African lion version of Hamlet, so I knew some of the major deaths and arcs to expect. Julie Taymor (art director) and the producers of the play, however, took that story and made it into a fabulous spectacle! Streams of dancers and puppeteers with clever and gorgeous costumes really make it an imaginative exercise. The meerkat Timon, for example, is a puppet about four feet tall whose voice/body actor is a guy painted all green standing behind him, working him. The "cheetah specialty" puppet woman is especially slinky and fascinating to watch.

Not a big Elton John / Tim Rice fan, but "Circle of Life" and some of the other heavily African-flavored songs are very stirring. I had tears running down my cheeks from time to time. My mom, as I expected, sobbed through much of the play.

I had another episode of Children Fu when a little boy in a dress shirt and pants, about four, ambled over to me during intermission to check out my view. He was just kind of lounging back, mostly in my lap, when his embarrassed mother saw him and called him away. I always have to tell the parents, "it's okay, I'm used to this."

The other great thing was how helpful the PAC folks were; they have a couple of courtesy wheelchairs and "Randy" rolled one out to my car and loaded up Mom and got her to her seat. Then he showed up as the audience cleared up and loaded her back in and got her to the car. Even the traffic was not wacky bad. In fact, from UT to Mom's house in South Austin took only 11 minutes. That was waaaaay better than I ever could've hoped.

Saturday morning, I woke up with lots of plans. Russ woke up tired and tense because he was too keyed up over the events of the weekend, and especially the fact that he, Russ, would have to give a speech that very afternoon. "Tell some jokes," I advised him. "Humor is always good." There was some tension about the marriage that Wyatt had wisely remained above. Wyatt's family all ultimately made the trip despite some grumbles, but none of Sandra's three surviving brothers came because of illness in their families. A friendly nephew did make it, however, and his wife came too even though she was eight months pregnant. So I thought, make light of everything and use healing laughter.

But my humor advice was not one he considered. Turns out that when Russ gets in his grumbly mood, which fatique and stress will trigger, my signature strengths of wit and insight mysteriously disappear. Imagine! In fact, I needed to be told that, when he was describing some of the colorful behavior of Shaun the previous night, and I pointed out that come two o'clock that day, Shaun would be his nephew and he would for the first time in his life be Uncle Russ, well... I wasn't very funny. And just so I knew, that joke was getting old and it could just stop. Right. There.

heh. Uncle Russ. Uncle Russ. Uncle Russ. -- No, he's wrong. That is still funny.

Anyway, we decided to dress that morning in the clothes we'd wear the whole day. By an odd coincidence, Russ and I had both chosen shades of green, and our outfits were nicely complementary. When we were downstairs scoring the free (carbohydrate-laden) breakfast the LQ offered, Russ's mom Page W. and their long-time family friend Wayne S. ("Chief") caught up with us. Page's first words were how wonderful we both looked, so I guess the green effect did go over well. We all had until 1:30 that afternoon to do our own things, since that was when the wedding party needed to gather at the riverboat Natchez to embark.

Page and Wayne had not been at the dinner the night before since they got in late from their Louisiana Swamp Tour and a visit to the zoo. Wayne had flown in from California and they were making the weekend into a mini-vacation. Page and Wayne have been friends for decades, with many adventures in Africa where Wayne was a safari guide for a long time, a member of the U.S. foreign service and various other things. Wayne now does incredible illustrations of exotic birds, some of which have been made into posters or printed on t-shirts or published by college presses. Page has been a birder, environmentalist and kayaker for years. So after a short catch-up talk, the four of us decided to start our morning at the (new) New Orleans Audobon Aquarium.

( The story continues, and there are photos! )

One of the problems of lodging in downtown N.O. instead of the French Quarter is that, no kidding, lunch goes away on weekdays after 2:00 p.m. and there is no food to be had. I guess they serve the business crowd and the heck with tourists. Russ and I had talked about getting lunch at the airport, since we'd had such an early morning, but that seemed a waste in a town like N.O. Then President Bush inconvenienced our schedule, and it was after 2:00 by the time we got the hotel. We walked outside and did a frustrating tour of the area. We'd see a restaurant and confer: did it meet his requirements (vegetarian meals)? did it meet my requirements (something besides sandwiches, pasta and pizza since I can't eat wheat)? If it did, then-- D'oh! It was locked or closed or the servitors chased us away -- "no more lunch! no more lunch!"

But five blocks away we did find a Cajun-influenced Middle Eastern deli. I got Greek salad with paprika on it (??) while Russ ate his weight in flatbread, humus and olives. I think it was blackened humus. Our entertainment was watching the double payphone in the street outside where flocks of very short, dark men from the Mexican navy stood in line to make calls. Their uniforms were blindingly white and very crisp--odd to see in a place as hot and humid as N.O. I had my first experience there of what happens everywhere I go these days: a black family walked by on the way to a bus stop, and their cute 5 or 6-year-old son saw me in the window, broke into a grin and started waving. Kids do that. I think it's my clown-like face. It helps that I smile at them too. And of course I wave back. I'm not an evil clown.

We connected (the cell phone I bought in April? it really paid off) with Russ's brother, Wyatt. Learned which family members had arrived and who was still expected. As we wandered the nearby streets around Gravier and Magazine, the sky suddenly grew dark. A rumble started. Then lightning flashed through the tall office buildings that surrounded us. As the rain descended, we ducked into an interesting photo gallery on Magazine. Historical and modern works, but none of what I associate with historical photos of N.O. -- the prostitutes of Storyville. Or maybe that was for a private back room? This kept us entertained for about an hour, and still the rain fell. A big, drenching downpour that soaked more than one person we saw.

Russ wanted to go further north to the museum area. Little did we know that the 3:00 to 4:00 p.m. time slot we had open then would've been the only time we could've seen the Civil War Museum. That we didn't learn until Sunday. But that Friday, I didn't want to walk blocks in such heavy rain. We finally recognized that much more festivity was scheduled for that evening so we'd better crash while we could. We returned to the LQ to nap and read until dinner.

--MORE TO COME
( Some photos from the trip )