What's In My Garden?

Does anyone know what this blue flower is called?
It's flower is really pretty - shaped kind of like a trumpet.
How about this pink fern-y thing?

Sometimes, when I stop hyperventilating, I think that our garden will look really pretty one day, maybe even next year, but right now, I'm overwhelmed.

Isn't that beautiful?

Found 14th Arrondissement on Youtube - check it out, and let me know if you love it as much as me!



And here's the Natalie Portman one, directed by Tom Tykwer (Faubourg Saint-Denis).

Oooh - and here's the Gus Van Sant.

Paris, Je T'Aime

Had a really fun weekend - M. and I finally got our bedroom painted - it looks great - pics coming soon. It took like 10 times longer than we thought it would, but it was fun. We also saw Paris, je t'aime, which was so great. It's made of about 20 vignettes, one per arrondissements in Paris, and each one is made by a different director. It's multi-cultural, multi-national, beautiful and fun - I wish there were more movies like this! You'll have your own favorites if you check it out, but mine were Gus Van Sant's "Le Marais" (Oddly. Normally I can't stand his work), the Coen Brother's "Tuileries" (natch), Isabel Coixet's "Bastille" about a man about to leave his wife but changes his mind after some surprising news, and Alexander Payne's "14th arrondissement" about a tourist who narrates the short in horribly accented French.

Although ostensibly the film is about love in Paris, some of the shorts are more serious, and I daresay more universal than Paris. For example, Walter Salles' "Far From the 16th" is about a young immigrant mother who lives on those "ghetto" outskirts of Paris that one hears about but never sees in the movies. Gurinder Chadha's "Quais de Seine" features a young Muslim woman in hijab, and Oliver Schmitz's "Place des Fêtes is a heartbreaking short about an immigrant and his all-too-brief encounter with a beautiful woman.

Some of the shorts are goofy, like the one with Elijah Wood and a vampire, or another sort of like a Hong Kong opera, some push the envelope of creative cinematography like "Faubourg Saint-Denis" (starring Natalie Portman), Alfonso Cuarón's "Parc Monceau" (which is one continuous shot)... even the one with the mimes is simply charming.

Correction!

My bff has apprised me that I have misattributed the quote at right to Nelson Mandela - its actual author is Marianne Williamson from her book Return to Love. Apparently my friend had a print-out on our 'fridge through one year of college. 'Doh!

It's odd - I heard that quote during an Ellen DeGeneres stand-up bit, and she said it was by Mandela. Then I looked it up online, and there was this big question of whether or not it was spoke during his inaugural speech, but no mention of poor M. Williamson. Isn't that typical, a woman not getting credit?

Be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous.

I care the most appropriate level

Awesome! Found a Hello Kitty test that divines how much you care for others. They've brilliantly boiled it down to whether you would make soup or curry in a pot with a sad bear on it, or give a friend juice in a yellow or red cup. Let it be known that I would never give a friend an inappropriately colored cup to drink her juice. My result to the test "to see how much you care about people and stuff around [me]": 70%

Your care is at the most appropriate level. When you are with other people, you usually can read others' mind and hold their hands and give them your support when timing is the most appropriate. Other than this, your care is quiet [sic] natural and can easily achieve the best result. Because your care is natural, it won't appear exaggerated or too obvious. To people around you, you are a very trustworthy person.

It's true, I can read minds.

For the Love of God!

A few days ago saw 1985's Ladyhawke with friends. It's a yearly ritual for them to watch the movie and stuff themselves silly on candy. I'm still coming down from the sugar rush. It was a fun movie. Last night watched Grandma's Boy. M.'s choice. Really abysmal.

Megan Stielstra, a local Chicago writer and blogger has a story on Fresh Yarn. Very funny.

In other news, I was very excited to read this article about the collection of George Michael. I didn't realize he was a collector. Turns out his partner is an art dealer. Anyway, they have a Damien Hirst or two, and the Guardian implies that they are thinking about buying Hirst's $100m For the Love of God, a human skull covered in diamonds. The Art Newspaper, a more respectable source, quotes the bf as saying it's “out of our price range”. So, the question remains: who will buy it? Frankly, I think it's reprehensible, like most of Hirst's work. But, the guy's a great artist, you can't deny that. What better symbol of our times?

What's in My Garden?

I thought you might be amused by these ridiculously large plants growing in our garden. I believe they are Compass Plant (or Rosinweed) on the left and possibly Cup Plant on the right (although according to most sources, Cup Plant has a smooth stem, and mine is big and hairy).


Here's a picture that gives you a better idea of the scale:


I find them mostly terrifying, sort of like my rhubarb, because I fear it will rise up in the night and kill us all. Also, I found out its roots grow 10 feet long. I mean, that's just not natural, right? I was thinking about tearing them out, unless the roots have already placed their stranglehold on our foundation, or if there were some other compelling reason. What do y'all think?

What's In My Garden

Look, we're practically farmers!

Agoraphobia: Weekend Edition

Yesterday I saw Ocean's 13 with a friend, even though I earlier declared I wouldn't. If I didn't bring it up now, that would probably have been forgotten, as what seemed to garner the most attention from that post was a brief mention of the "new" birth control pill which allows women to skip periods altogether (BTW, here's an interesting article re: the invention of the Pill via Objectify This) rather than a very amusing (or so *I* thought) imagined cast of Ocean's 28. Anyway, it was my friend's birthday, and we both had a long list of movie themes we weren't interested in (no films about falling in love, no films about having children, no films starring Kevin Costner) so we ended up at Ocean's 13.

Well, they certainly having a winning franchise going, and I wouldn't be surprised if we do see Ocean's 28 one day, with Clooney and Pitt wearing impeccably tailored suits and faux-finishing (ha!) each other's sentences. I was merely pleased that Julia Robert's wasn't in it and all was forgotten when I saw the aforementioned suits. Christ almighty, do those two look good in a suit!

This weekend I'm going to be hobbling around cursing my (still!) aching back and perhaps seeing another movie with mon amor - peut-être La Vie En Rose ou Paris Je T'aime. Baring that, I suppose we'll watch episodes of Clark and Michael online (I know those of you needing a Michael Cera/Arrested Development fix will be into it.)

Good things

Looking at the Bright Side is difficult, if you're me - but that was my intention today. Didn't find it on the way downtown, where I had to move because a "ranter" sat down next to me. On the way home, another one sat down behind me while I was peacefully reading, so I stood up and moved to the back of the car. Unfortunately there was a poster for this movie, uh... Captured, or some crap. And the poster is a picture of a woman with dirt all over her face, streaks of tears, and, of course, behind bars. So, I was sitting there, contemplating whether to just tear it down or write "misogyny!" on it. Ultimately I decided I would write "Recognize Misogyny!" as soon as the bible-reading women in front of it moved. As I'm finalizing all this in my mind, I see that there's some commotion at the other end of the train, and they're all looking down at my end. And one lady's inching over to the Panic button (all L's have a panic button, and if you press it, everyone gets really mad, because the train stops.) So, I'm looking around, but I don't see anything, and I say to the guy next to me, "What's going on?" It occurred to me that they had somehow read my mind and knew that I intended to graffiti. Then the train stops. "Why'd she have to hit the panic button?" someone says. Then the guy next to me says, "Look, there's a fight in the next train." So I look into the train behind me, and I see this kid just completely pounding some other kid, right in the face. Then, he starts punching some other kid, in the stomach. Not two weeks ago did I see a whole gaggle of young girls, I'm telling you, just punch the hell out of each other on the platform. I feared slightly for my life, but more for humanity. To see someone getting punched, 3 feet away from you, as I have now, TWICE, in a matter of weeks, is an unpleasant feeling. It is a feeling that can best be expressed as follows: We're all doomed.

Lo, after finally returning to my home, and my bed, which, more and more, is seeming like a place I should never, ever leave, a certain loving husband urged me to face the outside world, and we went out to dinner, where we had to switch tables THREE TIMES because outrageously inconsiderate people and their ill-behaved offspring were so disruptive. People, *sigh* You made a choice to have children. Now make a choice to teach them to sit in their seats (not drape over my booth), not pound on the table, not sing and shout, not run around, not generally act like rabid little gophers.

Just when I was thinking about calling it all off, returning to my bed never to leave, that elusive Bright Side presented itself. We were in the pet store, picking up some non-tainted Science Diet for our precious little angel, when I saw a young girl and her mom looking at the cats available for adoption. She took a good look and said, "I think fatter is gooder."

Yes, me too. I'll leave you with a picture of Miss Kaya.

oh, my achin' sacroiliac

So, I've been suffering some back pain for the past couple of weeks and I'm afraid that I must therefore prove to those of you who believe in God, that there is, in fact, no God, which I shall prove as follows:

Hopeless Theorem 2007
There is no God
Proof
1. I am a good person
   a. I recycle
   b. I volunteer
   c. I love the creatures of the forest
2. I have been kicked in the balls repeatedly by the universe in the past year
   a. mostly too personal and agonizing to into in my blog
   b. aforementioned back pain

If 2 occurs when 1 is correct, then the theorem is proved.
Q.E.D.

Ah, I like math with just words, not numbers.

Speaking of my metaphorical balls, last night I had a silly but interesting conversation with a certain husband about the agency placed on the male genitalia and the lack of agency given to the female genitalia. All this sprung from an earlier conversation that, if given bagels and cream cheese as an incentive for coming in to work early (long story) M. should put them down his pants. Anyway, I remarked, wouldn't it be something if agency were placed on the female genitalia, such that putting bagels in a woman's pants would be as insulting as putting them in a man's pants. Theoretically. I've just been thinking about language a lot recently, and gender, and gendered language. I've been reading some great articles on a blog I recently discovered called Objectify This - check it out if you're similarly interested. I also address this issue also over on my book blog.

All this reminds me of a nifty little book called That Takes Ovaries, which champions brave acts by women, and seeks to give agency to the ovary, rather than the ball.

crazy town

Just read about this new "Creation Museum" in Petersburg, Kentucky (via Salon). Their website is pretty hilarious, if you're into that sort of thing. In order to uphold that the book of Genesis is factual, these folks hold that the world is only a couple thousand years old, and that, you know, dinosaurs and people were created the same week. So, the website links to all these pseudo-science (anti-science might be a better term) articles with questions like, "Is there evidence that rocks don't take a long time to form?" The answer, apparently? Yes!

I think this kind of crap is really dangerous, actually. These types of organizations promote not only ignorance, but hate (there's a section in the museum devoted to anti-abortion and anti-homosexuality rhetoric). It reminds me of two experiences from my own red-state upbringing. The time my science teacher said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "SOME scientists will try to tell you that the world was created by a BIG BANG. Now, does that make sense?" Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: Public Education. One I asked my Sunday school teacher how dinosaurs fit in the picture, shortly after learning about them in school. I was quickly chastised never to question the Word of God. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: private education. It's so depressing to think that so little has changed since I was kid.

Weekend Edition

Here's a couple of movies I won't be watching! 1. Pirates of the Caribbean 3 - come ON! I've been a nay-sayer of the franchise since the beginning, and at this point it's just getting ridiculous. But not quite as ridiculous as 2. Ocean's 13, starring George Clooney as George Clooney! In quiet moments the last few days, when not completely going off my nut over these insane right wingers who claim that this new pill which allows women to avoid periods (PS, all pills are like that, you can just skip the placebo) will "blur gender" because uh, periods make us women? Look, if I start writing about how stupid that is, I'll never stop. Where was I? Oh yes, I amuse myself by imagining the cast of Ocean's 28. Here's what I got:
George Clooney
Brad Pitt
Kris Kristofferson
Brad Pitt
Matt Damon
Ben Affleck
Cassie Affleck
Bobbie Affleck (a second cousin)
Elliott Gould
Don Cheadle
Andy Garcia
Carl Reiner
Colonel Sanders
Shaobo Qin
Burt Reynolds
John Travolta
Dom DeLuise
Chris Tucker
Ted Knight
John Goodman
John Turturro
Gene Hackman
Ned Beatty
Brando
that Shia LaBeouf person
Crispin Glover
Daniel Radcliffe (in nude scene)
Julia Roberts

New York and back to reality*

Here are a few pics from our trip to NY. This is Milo on his first ever subway ride, since they're back in LA, I'm guessing PT won't be a big part of his life, but he looked pretty comfortable.

And here's moi and M. standing outside Central Park:
Ha! I read this really dopey article in People magazine about how "the stars" are wearing "summer scarves". I had no idea I was being so hip in my effort to stay warm.

I arranged a galley tour one day with what I thought were guaranteed crowd pleasers: Takashi Murakami at Gagosian, some Joseph Cornell at Zoubok, and the show that's getting a ton of press right now, and was quite beautiful: Picasso, Braque and Early film in Cubism at Pace Wildenstein. Everything was pretty much universally reviled (except by myself and a certain loyal husband).

In other news, think I finished up all the series and season finales of the shows I watch (oh, no, I think there's a couple of Heroes I haven't seen, even though I hate that show). Last night was Veronica Mars, which was a disappointing ending to a disappointing season. I was into all the rumors that if the show got renewed, it'd be a flash forward to Veronica working for the FBI, but I guess we'll never see that. It seems the Curse of College has hit again. Which makes me wonder, why do we, as a society, hate watching shows about college kids? Perhaps it's because we have little tolerance for ridiculously thin young women breezing through Yale and getting a job following Barack Obama on the campaign trail! I mean, it's just so UNREALISTIC! So, if you watched the series finale of The Gilmore Girls, you know what I'm talking about. At least we were saved all that doe-eyed mooning on V.Mars.

* by "reality" I mean, of course, television.

Uh, what's wrong with YOU?

Read an interesting article by Joss Wedon entitled "Let's Watch A Girl Get Beaten To Death" in response to the brutal killing of Dua Khalil. He questions how we've come to this place in humanity where people idly stand by with their cameras while a young woman is beaten to death. I question his reasoning that something is "wrong" with women, although, yes, I GET what he's saying, I just tend not to point my finger at the slain and abused. But, like Wedon (if you haven't noticed) something has "snapped" in me too - and I agree whole heartedly with this:

Because it’s no longer enough to be a decent person. It’s no longer enough to shake our heads and make concerned grimaces at the news. True enlightened activism is the only thing that can save humanity from itself. ...
All I ask is this: Do something. Try something. Speaking out, showing up, writing a letter, a check, a strongly worded e-mail. Pick a cause – there are few unworthy ones. And nudge yourself past the brink of tacit support to action. ... Even just learning enough about a subject so you can speak against an opponent eloquently makes you an unusual personage. Start with that.

I've made a couple of posts on my oft ignored book blog. Check it out if you're interested. And read that article.

Finales

Had a bunch of finales loaded up on Ye Ol DVR - thought The Office was hilarious. Disappointed by Natasha's loss on America's Next Top Model (although filled with Classic Tyra Moments like when she told Renee how much she hated that the industry discriminated against older women [Renee's 20] and then went ahead and kicked her off for just that reason.) Thought they could have at least had the decency to explain Jaslene's statement that she was "raised by drag-queens." In quiet moments I imagine what that must have been like. (Snore! Turns out it's not that interesting.) Can't believe Melinda didn't win American Idol (not that I, you know, WATCH that show!) My only consolation is that she will surely win an Oscar next year in Dreamgirls II. Got really pissed off by the season (series?) finale of Scrubs, which has sucked all season (except for the last 4 seconds of the show). Its central premise was this ridiculous sentiment, which I've heard more times than you'd believe, that having kids beatifically "changes you." Like parents are privy to some higher plane of understanding that we child-free could never understand. Sure, I've known a few outrageously selfish people who have become slightly less outrageously selfish when they have a kid, but taking the smallest amount of responsibility for another human that completely relies on them hardly makes them saints.

A friend of mine said he kind of wished that Jeff Probst would narrate his life, just like he does on the challenges of Survivor. I suppose mine would sound something like this:

PROBST: Special K! Sadly shaking her head back and forth! Thanks to Dreamz, she appears to have lost the last shred of hope she had in humanity! Special K, now in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. Special K! Weeping! She has NO hope.

Blue Note

ITEM: Last night we saw SteveTyrell and my bro-in-law, Lyman, at the Blue Note in Manhattan. It was a fun show. Lyman's lately been singing a little backup, and I like to think of him as the MC Scat Kat toTyrell's Paula Abdul. Which, naturally, I mean in a good way. Living Legend Rod Stewart showed up, knocking the crowd on it's ass and a couple of very drunk middle-aged women out of their shoes. Rod Stewart looked just like Rod Stewart, crazy white hair, white suit jacket. Had a couple of very large bodyguards in attendance. Appeared to be drinking an appletini.

Spider-Man 3

Spider-Man 3 started off strong. I really liked the comic-booky creation story of the Sandman (Thomas Haden Church - Yeow! What a transformation from his character in Sideways!) And the fight between Spiderman and Harry (is he really called "New Goblin"? Why not "lil' Goblin"?) was slick and exciting. But at 2 hours and 20 minutes, I'd say it was about 1 hour too long. The bits with Mary Jane and her flopping career were so dull. Every time there was a long shot of something stupid, like eggs frying in a pan, or Stan Lee saying some crap I-never-did-mind-about-the-little-things, I found myself looking around for something to claw out my eyes.

I really have to quibble with this conceit that Black=Evil. Sure, sure, maybe it's just what color his evil-suit happened to be, but we can't keep reinforcing these worn-out, Disney-style stereotypes that, however subconsciously, are culturally hurtful.


Also, how insane was it that when Parker starts getting infected by the black spidersuit, he like, turns into a '70's porn star, walking down the street, doin' the hustle? And, ooh, see, he wears his hair all in his eyes. Only a ruffian would do that.

Former indie stars Maguire, Dunst and Howard must have had a terrible time keeping a straight face through such brilliant dialogue as:

Parker: Are you OK?
Watson: Yeah.

That gem was uttered after Mary Jane was nearly smashed by a dump truck, then a taxi, having been suspended in the air perhaps 100 stories high, and then plummeting most of that distance only to be rescued at the last possible moment while onlookers below gasped and then, yes, applauded. "Yea! You caught the girl, and didn't allow her to be dashed before our eyes and the eyes of our children, with whom we are standing on the street, watching an epic battle take place!" Hackneyed, is what it is!

What's In My Garden?

It's time for yet another installment of What's In My Garden? The popular blog where YOU tell ME what the hell's in my yard. We spent most of the day digging around out there - one of my very kind neighbors advised us about which plants are most invasive and we've been trying to keep those at bay. I dug out at least 10 huge horseradishes today and then desperately tried to give away the roots to random people walking down the street. Thought about selling the rest at the Farmer's market. Or to Arby's. Here's just a little bit:

Is this Columbine?

I think this is called "Heart [of something]." Pretty, isn't it?

Anyone know what this is?

Remember the first What's In My Garden and y'all very helpfully identified our rhubarb? It has now gotten completely out of control, and I fear it will devour us all.

This picture is better for scale:

Movies

I've been watching a lot of movies recently - most off Netflix, but did catch The Invisible in the theatre. It sucked in many ways, but the thing that most annoys me in retrospect is that the kid was not technically invisible. In the great tradition of invisibility in the movies, the invisible character can still be heard and even touched if bumped in to, but the kid in The Invisible's more like a ghost.

Last night we watched The Departed. It broke my recent resolution not to watch violent movies - but people kept saying the violence "wasn't bad." Sure, maybe "not bad" for Scorsese, but, come on, when literally everyone in the movie ends up (spoiler!) dead, let's upgrade to "pretty bad". The Departed brought out my latent misandry, and leaves me thinking what is WITH this boys' club whose idea of poetry is to kill each character in the movie? These douchbags (Scorsese, Clint Eastwood (Mystic River? Ugh!) and Soderbergh) love nothing better than making an all-male movie and they think they're Shakespeare if everyone leaves the movie feeling miserable. It leaves me with no option but to add one more fast rule to my list and no longer watch movies that have only one female cast member.