Wanda is away this weekend on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan. No wait, sorry - that was last week. This week she's on a whirlwind tour of Lincoln, Nebraska, wherein she will sing a recital with friend and fellow doctoral candidate Benjamin Carlisle in the Episcopal church on the campus of UN-L. There's a small blurb about it here.
Being as Wanda is herself a radio personality, nothing would do but to have the NPR affiliate in Lincoln have her and "Ben" on for an interview, as well as playing a short excerpt from their Atlanta concert (which I recorded, thank you very much)!
You can download a 6 meg MP3 of that broadcast here.
Me, I think the announcer has a crush on her. And who can blame him!
Friday, April 28, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Caninical update
The Stupidest Fucking Dog on the Planet has returned. At some point last week Jersey re-appeared in his domain, not apparantly worse for wear, but, at least for now, much less likely to come and give me hell for wandering around on my own property. I was out there for several hours the other day doing maintenance on our screens and he only barked at me for about 10 seconds before going and finding some pile of shit to sniff. Stupid fucking dog.
Anyway, call off the ASPCA - with no corpse, there are no charges to press.
Yet.
Anyway, call off the ASPCA - with no corpse, there are no charges to press.
Yet.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
The Dirty Dozen
It was a day exactly like this day - bright, sunny, beautiful, perfect. It was a day I remember as clearly now as ever I did. Seeing you for the first time in the wedding gown your mom made, I nearly leaped completely out of my skin, failing only because it's just not possible to do this.
But man, did I try.
Twelve wonderful, wierd, exhilarating, frustrating, magnificent years later you still make me feel just like you did then - and even my vocabulary isn't up to the task of adequately describing what that means. I won't even try. I hope you know it by now.
Happy anniversary, baby.
But man, did I try.
Twelve wonderful, wierd, exhilarating, frustrating, magnificent years later you still make me feel just like you did then - and even my vocabulary isn't up to the task of adequately describing what that means. I won't even try. I hope you know it by now.
Happy anniversary, baby.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Irons in the Fire
So let's see -
1) Wanda is currently on super-progesterone ("angry pills") which, it is hoped, will shrink these eternally damnable cysts to the point where we can start an in-vitro cycle and carry it through to its (it is fervently to be hoped) successful completion. She's been on them for an exciting 2 weeks, and in that time, one of her cysts got smaller, one got larger, and a new one showed up on the radar. We are on the angry pills for 3 more weeks, and then if the things (the cysts, not the pills) aren't gone the doctor is going to aspirate the fucking things and we're off to the races.
2) The garden is in! A row of carrots, a row of broccoli, three roma tomato vines and three "big boy" hybrid tomato vines (we love hybrids in this house). Tomorrow I run to Home Depot to get some small staked fencing to keep the wascally wabbits out. Last year they did a number on my carrots, and I'd like to avoid that this year. Look for me wearing a brown and red hunting cap soon...
3) The Stupidest Fucking Dog on the Planet has gone missing! Last Friday a group of burly men cut down every single tree in the uphill neighbors' back yard (one assumes they did this with permission). It is now a bright, sunny, airy space that is short by one obnoxious dog. Apparently at some point during the arboral annihiliation a fence got accidentally pummeled, Jersey got out, and hasn't been seen since. I am waiting for the neighbors to knock on my door and angrily accuse me of something (for once, I am perfectly innocent of all charges). I do hope the little guy is OK, I'm just hoping he's OK somewhere else.
4) There aren't any interesting stories to tell, I'm afraid. Well, there's the time I met Joshua Malina in Houston and got to talk to him for a good 5 minutes about SportsNight (I have proof of this meeting somewhere), also they lost our luggage en route to Houston (it's George Bush Airport, for pete's sake, what did we expect?)... oh and then there's the details about why the day mentioned in the previous post was my best professional day ever... and maybe I should give some details about our recent trip to Carnegie Hall...
OK, so we're slack. We're going to catch up now.
1) Wanda is currently on super-progesterone ("angry pills") which, it is hoped, will shrink these eternally damnable cysts to the point where we can start an in-vitro cycle and carry it through to its (it is fervently to be hoped) successful completion. She's been on them for an exciting 2 weeks, and in that time, one of her cysts got smaller, one got larger, and a new one showed up on the radar. We are on the angry pills for 3 more weeks, and then if the things (the cysts, not the pills) aren't gone the doctor is going to aspirate the fucking things and we're off to the races.
2) The garden is in! A row of carrots, a row of broccoli, three roma tomato vines and three "big boy" hybrid tomato vines (we love hybrids in this house). Tomorrow I run to Home Depot to get some small staked fencing to keep the wascally wabbits out. Last year they did a number on my carrots, and I'd like to avoid that this year. Look for me wearing a brown and red hunting cap soon...
3) The Stupidest Fucking Dog on the Planet has gone missing! Last Friday a group of burly men cut down every single tree in the uphill neighbors' back yard (one assumes they did this with permission). It is now a bright, sunny, airy space that is short by one obnoxious dog. Apparently at some point during the arboral annihiliation a fence got accidentally pummeled, Jersey got out, and hasn't been seen since. I am waiting for the neighbors to knock on my door and angrily accuse me of something (for once, I am perfectly innocent of all charges). I do hope the little guy is OK, I'm just hoping he's OK somewhere else.
4) There aren't any interesting stories to tell, I'm afraid. Well, there's the time I met Joshua Malina in Houston and got to talk to him for a good 5 minutes about SportsNight (I have proof of this meeting somewhere), also they lost our luggage en route to Houston (it's George Bush Airport, for pete's sake, what did we expect?)... oh and then there's the details about why the day mentioned in the previous post was my best professional day ever... and maybe I should give some details about our recent trip to Carnegie Hall...
OK, so we're slack. We're going to catch up now.
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