Just in case you were thinking I could do anything I offer up this horrible experiment in Poser Pro. Blue Man Group or something. I’m going to have to tackle the learning curve on this one. Maybe when I can sit for longer than five minutes at a stretch. 
My experiments with Blue Mice worked out better. This one got thrown.
Ah the best laid plans of mice and men….. Well I’ve manage to post something every day even with the back problem but some of them have been on Superficial Gallery which has a bit more adult content. What have I been working on standing up? Thanks to Jenny Hudock who kicks me into gear every once in a while I’ve started rebuilding my graphics capability. I’m sure Kim will be happy to hear I’m not going to have to send her stuff for minor tweaks anymore.
But considering I’ve forgotten how half the layering functions work and can’t sit for longer than fifteen minutes I think this work in progress is coming out well.
Like any child that prefers to play with the box Charlotte’s favorite toy is the stick she picked out from the woodpile as a puppy. Her second favorite is a milk bottle with a ball in it. The expensive toys from Petco just sit around gathering dust. The problem I have is that she thinks like a dog and anything she likes has to be hidden because SOMEONE ELSE MIGHT GET THEM. This is all very logical according to canine thinking but irritating when she’s looking for something to play with and everything is hidden. So weekly I have to go around and retrieve dog toys and put them in the Chinese urn where they belong.
This of course causes a great deal of anxiety because SOMEONE IS GETTING THEM. You’ve never seen such a sad dog when my ex tried to throw away stick and milk bottle. I had to secretly retrieve stick from the trash. Milk bottle gets replaced every time it gets too chewed up. Charlotte thinks it’s magic but before I digress too far into dog toys I’ll tell you I dropped stick squarely on Charlottes head.
CLONK it went and Charlotte did the don’t whip me no more daddy thing. Before you call the SPCA please be aware that the stick was dropped because somebody was jumping up and trying to get her dog toys. We have had discussions about jumping especially when I’m not feeling well, it’s like a forty five pound slab of muscle being thrown at you full force. Poor Charlotte she knows she’s been BAD for the jumping and I’ve thrown a stick at her. Her tail is between her legs and she’s looking to see If I’m going to throw hockey puck on a rope too. Well I have to fix this right away.
We have varying grades of dog cookies in the house. There are small biscuits for every day treats, beefy biscuits for special treats, peanut butter biscuits for extra good dog and peanut butter biscuits with actual peanut butter on them for those what the hell would I do without you moments. Going for the peanut butter biscuit box gets me a tail wag. Getting out the jar of peanut butter gets preemptive sitting, lying down and speaking so she’ll have all her commands done and I can give her the cookie right away. Cookies fix everything.
It got me to thinking. I wish I could fix people with cookies. Nikki and Jenny definitely need a peanut butter biscuit with peanut butter on it. Bill needs a whole soup bone at the moment. Ryan could do with a beefy stick. Katt would have to get one of the special organic biscuits from Bark Harbor for putting up with the Navy moving crew. If I’m giving out cookies I’m going to make everyone happy. Can’t give a cookie to Jenny and forget James and Devon. Penny and Purrdey deserve cookies for always cheering me up and the same for Kammi and Telltale. Patrick needs some snausages for reminding me that I have Jazz in the house. Chuck needs a bacon strip for always being there to help and Vickie for volunteering Chuck. I’m not sure where Becki and Kim are right now but I’m pretty sure Kim’s Bailey, Tyson and Portia would take some. Heck I’m going to give cookies to everyone and get tails wagging from Germany to Idaho
You’ve all seen a ship in the bottle. Some old geezer spent hour figuring out how to get the hull into the bottle then very carefully used a string to raise the masts and rigging before sealing the bottle. Today they call them impossible bottles. How did they get a deck of cards in there? I can figure it out when there’s no cellophane on there. Breaking a seal on a pack of cards just requires a hair dryer. Then it’s just a matter of slipping the empty box, slipping the cards back in one by one, and putting that seal back on. I’m sure there’s a trick for the cellophane too. Same thing with the tennis ball. It’s just a matter of using an inflation needl
e from a sports ball and sucking the air out then re-inflating it once it’s inside. Part of the whole trick of these things is they’re inside the bottle which makes it hard to examine a tennis ball for tiny holes especially when they’ve been arranged so you can’t see them.
Those bottles are like bar bets. Never take the bet that someone else can put more in a bottle than you can because there’s a trick that makes you a sucker. You have to go a long way to find a real Impossible bottle. They exist it’s called a Klein bottle. It’s simple just follow the math.
The “figure 8” immersion (Klein bagel) of the Klein bottle has a particularly simple parameterization. It is that of a “figure-8” torus with a 180 degree “Mobius” twist inserted:
The parameterization of the 3-dimensional immersion of the bottle itself is much more complicated. Here is a simplified version:
where
for 0 ≤ u < 2π and 0 ≤ v < 2π.
Is your head hurting by now? Mine too. Even the words hurt. It’s a non-orientable surface with no identifiable “inner” and “outer” sides. a closed surface with only one side; formed by passing one end of a tube through the side of the tube and joining it with the other end. It’s a Möbius strip in three dimesnions. Basically if an ant starts crawling on the outer part of the bottle it will eventually get back to the outer part again only upside down. It’s a real Impossible Bottle and you can get them in beer steins now too.
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is going to be a Hollywood movie. Ellen Page and Mia Wasikowaska are in competition for the starring role of Lisbeth Salandar. Personally I think that Ellen Page is more suited to the role if she can maintain a tough girl image. In the Swedish version Noomi Rapace was too tough without enough of the little girl that makes Salander so fascinating.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you’re in the same boat as Hollywood was. Prior to his sudden death in 2004 Stieg Larsson had finished three detective novels which were published posthumously; The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest. They became a runaway hit in Europe and publishers noticed that people from the United States were special ordering the British translations. They got on the profit wagon too and the phenomenon came to the United States. I’ve never been a lemming not even when I heard the books were a runaway bestseller in Europe. Then I saw Charlie Rose talking about Stieg Larrson on his show. When I see that Charlie is actually interested in something I take notice. I went out and spent my food budget on The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.
Stieg Larsson was a Swedish writer and Journalist. He was known for his struggles against racism and right-wing extremism. Given a typewriter at the age of twelve he started writing and never looked back. He met his partner Eva Gabrielsson at an anti war protest and they were together for the rest of his life with the exceptions when she couldn’t stand his obsession, his writing. For the last fifteen years they’d lived in a state of high security having discovered that in the home of a murderer who had already killed one left wing activist there was photographs and notes targeting Stieg and Eva. The terrorists didn’t kill Stieg, in the end he was laid low by a heart attack. His last words were “I’m 54.” What was he thinking as he faded into darkness?
It couldn’t have been of the books that are now a runaway hit everywhere. Stieg wrote for relaxation. “Nobody would threaten Eva or himself over fiction” he explained. At first he’d written Science Fiction but then moved on to detective stories. These stories Stieg wrote for relaxation have sold more than 20 million copies in 41 countries and the numbers are climbing as more people in the US become aware of how good the books are.
If you need a recommendation I can tell you that rarely does a book surprise me and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo did. It wasn’t the twist ending. I figured that out relatively early on. It was more of a twist narrative. I was astounded where the narrative went and it wasn’t something you could turn to the back page and then put the book down satisfied that the puzzle was solved. I could tell you the big spoiler right now and there would be no risk of you being bored on any page of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. If you’re not allergic to detective stories I’d say buy The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and try it out. You’ll want to read more.
Wanting to read more is the real pity here. For someone who was a liberal and should have been well aware of the legal ramifications of an open relationship such as homosexuals are forced into he was stupid. Wasn’t he under threat? Having died intestate his estate goes to his Father and Brother. They are the ones who get the profits and more importantly they are the ones who own the rights. If they want to approve a silly Hollywood movie or hire Fred the Ghostwriter they can. Eva gets nothing aside from the fact she physically has Larsson’s computer held hostage with the fragments of the fourth book. This mess makes the squabbling over John Kennedy Toole’s estate look simple and the way that family held A Confederacy of Dunces Hostage is true southern gothic. Why Stieg? Did you not think what you wrote was worthwhile? I do.
In “Days of Perky Pat,” Phillip K. Dick comments on the 10-inch doll phenomenon by having adults play to quell the longing for the luxurious life they lead prior to World War III. Ultimately the winners of the game are the ones most practiced in the art of self-delusion. I don’t know if I agree with that. Dolls or action figures they’re the same thing; a plaything with the fantasy of control. They’re an important part of growing up and learning empathy and practical imagination. Barbie and G.I. Joe in some form are going to exist no matter how progressive society becomes. For me Sir Gordon and his horse Bravo were my introduction to Tolkien. I even made a Tolkien style barrow for him when I was transitioning from playing to architectural models. It’s probably still out there waiting for some puzzled archeologist to excavate.
Sir Gordon and Bravo cost about three hundred dollars now. That’s way out of my budget even if he does have all the cool armor that I think my Mom confiscated so my brother wouldn’t eat them and choke. Maybe that’s why I was so amazed to read that people are paying $5,000 to $45,000 for just one of Marina Bychkova’s “Enchanted Dolls.” These aren’t your kid sister’s Barbie. They’re finely crafted porcelain figures with a waiting list of two to three years between order and production. They’re unquestionably fetish items but they’re also exquisite art. If I had $6,000 to invest I’d buy one without hesitation. I’m not sure exactly what I’d do with one but any object that beautiful deserves to be admired. I’m also sure the value of these dolls are going to appreciate wildly the more aware the art world becomes of them.
Marina says that some of her earliest memories were of beautiful dolls that didn’t exist 
anywhere in her head. Most dolls are happy or expressionless in her quest for perfection and art Marina has given her dolls attributes that are not traditionally associated with dolls giving them a dimension beyond toys. Marina says, “It was all about thinking, challenging accepted notions of art, channeling creative impulses into unconventional ways of expression and developing creative thought process. It was very frustrating at the time because a lot of the time I felt that I wasn’t achieving anything significant. It was all scattered and all over the place. It’s only now becoming apparent how much I actually learned. My dolls wouldn’t be the same today if I hadn’t gotten art education.” Marina’s dolls have genitals, nipples, tattoos and even bite marks but what these things really are is a narrative just like the finest kind of art.
If you get an opportunity go to Enchanted Doll and watch Marina manipulate her dolls. It’s not playing with them, it’s an exploration of intriguing possibilities. She’s gone to incredible lengths to develop highly articulated joints. Watching the Enchanted Dolls moving I kept on thinking they’d be just as elegant full sized. In fact I was thinking about clunky C-3PO and how much more likely Queen Amidala would have a droid that looked like and Enchanted Doll. They certainly would have matched the Amidala costumes designed by Trisha Biggar better. Marina doesn’t actually play with her dolls. Like Phillip K Dick she speculates that: “adults who continue to play with dolls must have some psychological ‘deficiencies’ such as malformed identity, and still require dolls to compensate for those.” She goes on to state that she has a need to make dolls, to construct her identity with the dolls she makes and that’s a psychological issue too.
I’m not a psychiatrist but I think they’re learning tools that stimulate and inspire the perception of beautiful things. Incorporating beauty into our lives only makes them better even if it’s ten inch tall doll.
There’s no question that the old Gilman Garrison house should be preserved as a historical monument. The Gilman family owned lucrative sawmills and had shipping interests so in 1709 they built a fortified structure of massive sawn logs on the banks of the Squamscot river. There’s a pulley over the door to operate a portcullis in case the French and Indian’s came calling. Just the thing for a bored kid being dragged around history and the elegantly paneled rooms of the later renovation satisfy the adults. The Gilman Garrison house should be preserved just as it is, what about the garage just down Water street?
I don’t live in the area anymore so I don’t know if the battle has been lost but this garage is actually more significant historically and technically than it’s more romantic neighbor. It’s an example of the kind of facilities that the oil companies built in their first expansion. These are the same big oil companies who exist now. Gas stations are modernized as fast as possible and the old ones are replaced. Our garage survived by the owner’s decision to sell tires and service more than gasoline. The walls are also are an example of the first uses of commercial cinderblock. Most of those building were also considered disposable and demolished. At the time I was involved there were four known examples of this building type left standing and ours was in jeopardy.
“I wouldn’t shop in there it’s so dirty.” was one of the comments made. Others commented about the quality of the tires sold when architects were trying to explain the significance of the building. It’s happened before. George Washington’s home Mount Vernon was in danger of being demolished until it was rescued by one of the first preservation efforts in 1853. Pennsylvania Station in New York was demolished in 1964 to the shock of almost everyone who’d passed through.
It’s time to look around you and think. Preservation isn’t just for mansions and battlefields. There is currently legislation and support to encourage rural areas to begin “Main Street” historical programs. Imagine a tourist from a hundred years from now walking through your area and what she’s amazed at. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts she’s snapping holo pics of what seems perfectly ordinary to you. Think about when the last time you saw a McDonald’s that looked like the ones they had when you were a kid. Did you just suddenly realize that you haven’t seen one in a while? That right there is what we’re talking about
Preservation: the action or process of protecting, maintaining, and/or stabilizing the existing materials, form, and integrity of a historic place or of an individual component, while protecting its heritage value. Preservation can include both short-term and interim measures to protect or stabilize the place, as well as long-term actions to retard deterioration or prevent damage so that the place can be kept serviceable through routine maintenance and minimal repair, rather than extensive replacement and new construction.
Rehabilitation: the action or process of making possible a continuing or compatible contemporary use of a historic place or an individual component, through repair, alterations, and/ or additions, while protecting its heritage value.
Restoration: the action or process of accurately revealing, recovering or representing the state of a historic place or of an individual component, as it appeared at a particular period in its history, while protecting its heritage value.
Charlie Monahan was a smart man. For years he trucked his produce into the Farmer’s Market in Boston. He’d sell his truckload in the shadow of Faneuil Hall and then go bad to East Kingston. Then one year he came up with the idea of pick your own strawberries and all the people from Boston would be crowding South road for the opportunity to pick absolutely fresh strawberries. I personally always thought it was akin to working on a chain gang especially when my Dad decided to fill the refrigerator with frozen strawberries and I was nominated to do the picking while Dad wandered around and pretended he wasn’t eating more strawberries than he was putting in his bucket.
That was always in June. June is strawberry season in New England. We’re a little later here where the growing season is about three days long so I had to wait this long for the strawberries to be out. Ripe juicy strawberries with homemade shortcake and whipped cream freshly spun up.
I can still remember how to do it. Grab the stem right above the strawberry and pull with a twist. Then try not to crush the strawberry as you put it in the flat. You had to check for the ones hiding under the leaves. That was hot work my back killed me. Then we’d get home and I’d be expected to crank the handle on the ice cream maker. My brother would manage a few cranks then give it back to me and Katy always hung around to lick up the spills from when I pulled the paddle out to check if it was done. Not that I’d ever be sampling myself. Freshly made strawberry ice cream. Nothing like it. You know the amazing part? They have electric motors on those suckers now!
Mom’s Strawberry Ice Cream
2 pts. strawberries
1 (12 oz.) can evaporated milk
1 can condensed milk
2 eggs, beaten
2 c. sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
Milk, just enough
Crush strawberries. Mix well with sugar. Add beaten eggs; then, all other ingredients. Mix well and pour into container. Add enough milk to fill the can. Stir well, then get your son to crank his arm off. Makes 4 quarts.
As a note. My favorite homemade ice cream was banana. You just substituted four or five mushed bananas preferably the black ones that are ultra sweet.
“I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there’s gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”
When does your day start? Officially it’s midnight but for most people it’s when they get up and blearily start shuffling around. It doesn’t matter for me. When I turned on my reading lamp before going to bed the very expensive, environmental, ghastly white, fluorescent light bulb started spitting and popping. Great I have to worry about glowing red wires for the rest of the night while I’m sleeping like the dead due to the expensive, awful tasting, very large, pills I take before going to bed.
Charlotte decided to wake me up at four o’clock. It’s dawn and the, I slept all day because it was hot, dog is full of energy. I’m up early let’s do some laundry. Oh yeah I have to crawl down in the basement to turn on the water line while I’m doing the laundry because the pipe broke. On the way into the back room something catches on the kerosene lamp. SMASH the glass chimney is in thousands of little pieces on the floor. I’m trapped barefoot in the hall, on the other side of the glass. Fun, It takes about a month for a cut on my feet to heal more if it’s a big one. I end up using a pair of my shorts to brush away the glass. Only after I do this do I think what happens when you put these on and there are glass shards stuck in em?
Sweeping done I realize that I haven’t seen the metal base to the lamp. It’s under the stove leaking Kerosene. I’m going to smell kerosene after my sinuses clear up. It’s soaked into the pine of the wall. Didn’t I just see a Rescue Me where the house burns down because a kerosene lamp hit the floor? It’s too hot to use the dryer by now. It’s too hot to take the dog to the store either. I get those awful yipping noises as I get into the truck. I envision what my bed looks like after charlotte has been on it trying to look out the window. The truck won’t start. This isn’t a dead battery or anything like that. It’s, I’m going to start when I feel like it. It starts two minutes later but now I have to worry about being stuck in a parking lot if it won’t start there.
There’s an odd noise as I get out on the pavement. I caught something in the undercarriage on the way out through the jungle. I get light headed on the way into the store. I’m still recovering from being sick. I’m glad I don’t pass out but I’m sitting on the old man’s bench inside the store like I’m a hundred. I overspend my budget in the store. I don’t have enough for the dog cookies. I have to use the emergency credit card for the $1.99. So much for the ban on using the credit card. Oh shit did I pay that? I feel like the guy on Rescue Me who gave his life savings to the con artist whore every time I look at the credit card. Yeah I definitely have to stop watching that show it’s depressing.
I get home and put the groceries away. I log onto the game. It’s an escape zone. The Army guys start talking about their tribute songs. I remember It’s a Wonderful World by Satchmo is mine. I’m feeling all sorry for myself and a lot of QQ drama pops up and people start quitting the guild. I work hard trying to keep all that together. Am I going to start to have to run the raids now too? I wish Kim was there but she’s on a beach somewhere. I apologize for being a crappy guild master and log out because Charlotte is having a heat stroke or something.
She’s got cool water in her bowl but she’s panting like a locomotive. Black furry dogs are not meant for summer heat. She’s upset because I’m upset and I’m dammed if I’m going to kill my dog because I’m having a bad day so we go swimming. Swimming for charlotte involves chasing frogs around the edge of the pond and getting covered in algae mud. Her fur is going to stink for a week I’ll have to hose her off. Oh shit I forgot to turn off the broken fitting, it runs the hose and the washing machine. It’s been spraying water all over the crawl space all day.
Wet smelly dog gets most of my sandwich. My stomach isn’t up to anything even plain turkey. I go to turn on the internet. Great I’ve been kicked off the internet. Money is tight and I’ve left that bill too long. Out comes the emergency credit card again. It’s the American way to rob peter to pay paul. I go to get a drink of water. I’ve left the expensive no fat hamburger in the sink when I unpacked the groceries. I stick in the refrigerator. Maybe if I make meatloaf.
Out on the porch with Charlotte to enjoy the breeze. It’s great. The house is made of logs so it retains heat long into the cool of the evening. The breeze is great but it’s off the land. Ten thousand mosquitoes! Charlotte thinks that Off bug spray is very smelly and objects to daddy being coated in it. She tries to lick the poison off. Fantastic this is almost as good as trying to eat the mouse bait. Did I mention the mouse that died under the refrigerator? I’m too weak to pull it out so it’s stinky. With my luck I’d get it out and discover it’s somewhere else. Probably eating the wires.
Back on the internet. Apparently they talked about me on Podcaturday. I hope it was good. I promised that I’d post at least thirty days on the blog. Have to write something. Pink Cupcakes. Argh I’m locked out of wordpress and it won’t take my password. Have I been hacked? Get a new password sent right away. That took will anyone read something about pink cupcakes? At least it’s rolling on toward midnight and a new day.
12:32 Jenny Beans “You always write such vivid, beautiful poetry. This was so romantic, it made me want to climb up into the stars and lie down for a spell with my love.”
Wow what a great compliment for a romantic poem. It’s going to be a good day.
Watching Ace of Cakes where Duff and the crew of Charm City Cakes have a blast frosting their fantastical cakes you’d think working in a bakery was fun. The reality is that it’s a cruddy job. Not as bad as testing cat food for quality control but right up there. I know someone who refuses to eat anything with cinnamon on it because of her time in a donut shop. I worked on a bakery once. Everything was covered with some sticky substance 
composed of sugar, flour, grease, dirt and what have you. Sticky has to be my one big neurotic twitch and peeling that “glaze” with a roof scraper we used for tar roofs is one of the highlights of my working life. Add in the ovens making it seem like you were working in an oven then factor in that the wall behind the vent hood was packed with a rancid grease sludge. I started to look for Sigourney Weaver in case we had to kill giant acid spewing aliens who were angry for disturbing their nest.
I escaped unmolested by anything but wonderful memories but a bakery is number two on the list of places I’d rather not work. If you must know a brewery tops it out. Enjoy your Budweiser folks. Get on with it you say. It’s so hot the glass is melting out of the windows and you’re not getting to the point. Did you know glass is actually a liquid? Oh yeah get to the point.
I’m standing in line at the supermarket, there are about twenty summer people in line getting shopping carts full of deli and all I want is some turkey. Hey the glass is melting out of the windows and I don’t want to cook anything while I’m cooking myself. There’s a goody table there to tempt the poor souls trapped in deli purgatory. They have these cookies with a huge chunk of chocolate in the middle that if you microwave the Dalai Lama shows up and blesses you for having achieved perfection. The entire bakery crew is gathered around this table of forbidden delights Of course I listen I just wrote a whole article about cookies maybe I’ll get a lead on a hot story.
“Only girls want to eat pink and white cupcakes.” Says the manager. I can tell she’s the manager because she hasn’t got any flour on her apron. “She was unsupervised and I only stepped out for a moment and the cupcakes were frosted pink and white by the time I got back.” Says the supervisor. I can tell she’s the supervisor because she’s got the clipboard. I’ve seen her out back smoking before while walking Charlotte. “I did the green and yellow cupcakes.” says ordinary baker one. I’m not sure why the ugly green and yellow cupcakes are sanctioned. Maybe the store owner is a Notre Dame alumni. “I’ll buy them and take them home to the kids.” says the chastised ordinary baker number two. I didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation because there was some woman from Vermont* about to steal my place in line and I had to forearm block her and move up to shout “Turkey” to the deaf deli attendant.
What’s this little slice of life about? I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s the ludicrous American management style that’s having conferences about minor things like pink cupcakes. Maybe it’s that kids will eat pink cupcakes even though they’re girly. I know I would have. The reality is more that I promised myself that I’d do a month of daily posts as practice and I’m astonished that you read this far. I shall exit on the apologies of Shakespeare through the mouth of Puck
PUCK
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
*I have no idea where the nice lady at the Deli was from. She actually said: “He’s in front of me.” and pointed while I was still eavesdropping on the fantastic cupcake conference. She reminded me of one of my favorite readers so she ended up being from Vermont.
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