Transperformance was last night, and as usual, everyone rocked and were hilarious, the kids were dancing and goofing around the whole night, and I had a great time. I took a bunch of photos but only 6 were good enough to upload. You can see them all here.

Something inside of Blogger is screwing up the link above. If it doesn't work, you can copy and paste the url: http://chowflap.com/gallery/main.php?g2_view=core.ShowItem&g2_itemId=669

I played croquet on Tuesday evening for the first time in more than 20 years. It was good times. I played regularly in the summer when I was a lass, and here's photographic proof:







These were taken at my late grandparents' house in Center Harbor, NH, on July 4, 1976 (making me almost 4 years old). No, I don't know which one is me, though if you go by the parent-enforced color coding system, I'm the one with the red mallet. Which makes my sister the one with the very poor form in the second photo. Click my "some of my photos" link on the right, and look in "General photos", for larger versions.

No movement on the job front, though I have been doing plenty of "networking", i.e. talking to all of my friends about my plight. And I flipped through a book of cover letters, and had my boss look at a draft of my resume (it needs work). I also talked to a former co-worker who told me that since she's been freelancing (after getting laid off in an identical situation two years ago) she is much happier, but not making as much money as she did when she was full-time. Which is worrisome. I still have time to think about all of this, though.

So. I've been laid off. The new financial boss decided that killing our magazine would give him such a big bonus, he couldn't not do it. We will be officially employed until the end of September. We heard the news yesterday morning, and I'm just now able to really think about possible outcomes without bursting into tears. A lot of the outcomes involve me selling my house at a loss (still figuring out how much of a loss), renting somewhere cheap, and taking on a more adventurous job or jobs. I would be heartbroken if I lost the house. For some reason, and I know it's irrational, I'd feel like a failure. Or, I could find a not-so-attractive job doing technical writing or something that paid well, but which would mean a long commute to Hartford or some similar hellscape. I could put my severance pay towards a Prius, maybe (it's not enough dough to buy one outright). And that way I could keep the house.
...

I just got off the phone with the realtor that acted as my buyer's agent. She gave me some numbers, so I have a better idea of what selling my house would mean for me financially. I guess it's up to me now... I have some big decisions to make in the next few weeks that could radically change my life. Stay tuned.

I hadn't been to my garden in a few days, so I had a big harvest today. And I took some photos.
Here are my zinnias, which I grew from seed and are now taller than I am.



Here's a macro of a pink one. I love the scales under the petals.



And my prolific eggplant. It has been feeding me well.



I found this tomato, which a fox/cat/raccoon had taken a bite of and then decided it wasn't for them. After I snapped this I found another bitten one (but uneaten) on a different plant.



One of the gorgeous heirloom tomatoes I picked today. Yum...


Here's my winnings for the day. That's a little bag of basil tips.


And a pretty macro shot of the striped little guys.

Our team took third place last night, not too shabby. I was responsible for two right answers (ghee and Cats). And then we decided at the last minute to go see the 12:01 showing of Superbad. The theater was a sea of baseball-hatted teen boys, with a smattering of girls and people in their 20s. We figured we were the oldest people in the theater. Before the movie started, the boys would yell at every familiar face that walked into the theater. How they can tell themselves apart is beyond me. Like with butterflies or penguins, maybe you have to be one of them to notice the subtle differences between each member of the group. Anyway, the movie was very funny. I feel like I have gotten a generous helping of cock and blowjob jokes which will stay with me a long time. Seriously though, the movie seems like this generation's Risky Business, or 16 Candles, except rated R and funnier.

I got home at 2:30, and was in bed at 3, where I tossed and turned for about an hour. I had eaten a small popcorn by myself with no water or soda -- this after the two Jack and cokes at trivia -- so I was stupidly dehydrated. I got up and drank some water and managed to sleep for a few hours. I did manage to have a disturbing dream in which I had been burdened by a large number of tiny newborn puppies. I was trying to figure out how to drown them (so easy to stuff into a sack and throw it into the river!) or otherwise get rid of them in some way that wouldn't destroy my mind with guilt. The idea of trying to raise them at home until they were old enough to adopt out seemed too impossibly time-consuming and work-heavy. If I brought them to a shelter I'd have to pay a fee for each dog they took in (this happened to me in real life about 12 years ago, with two kittens I saved from certain death and nursed back to health), and since I had, like, 17 puppies on my hands, it would cost me a lot of money. So the puppies would just have to go, secretly, and without me telling anyone I ever had them in the first place. But, through various wacky and unpleasant adventures, I was unable to get back to the puppies until they outgrew their hiding place, scrambling out and charming everyone with their antics while I tried to act surprised.

Right now I feel almost human again, though I'm about to go out to eat with friends and then go back to that same bar to play pool, and I might end up at the Elvis tribute show around midnight if I don't crash by then. Normally I'd take tonight off but I have to jump on the party train when it comes through town, you know? Sleeping will have to wait.

Last night I had a dream that I was in a relationship with Huey Lewis. He was older than he was in the 1980s, but still probably not as old as he is now. Regardless, I was thrilled to be with him, and we seemed to get along well. Today I was working on the crossword puzzle in the Advocate, and there was a Huey Lewis-related clue (answer: Huey). I do not know what the universe is trying to tell me. That it's hip to be square? I knew that already. Thanks, universe -- or should I call you "captain obvious"?

I am about to run out to a bar after staying in last night (didn't even attempt to go out, I was content to stay at home). How am I? Alternately lonely, happy, sad, petulant, confident, awkward, and hopeful. More later.

Have you ever started eating a new food just because you're heard it's so good for you? Something like kale, maybe. You buy it at the farmer's market, thinking, this doesn't look like something that will be delicious, but it will make me feel so healthy and good that maybe I won't mind the taste. And at first, you only eat it because you know you really should. But then, once you get to know kale, you start finding new and delicious recipes, and eventually you realize that, even though this food is packed with vitamins, low fat and high in fiber, you love it. You taught yourself to love kale. Sandy, chewy, good-for-you kale.

Yeah. That doesn't work when it's with people and not food.

I had a vacation. It was very nice, very relaxing. I got into a total groove of getting up for breakfast (woken up by my cell phone alarm), going to a morning meeting thing for an hour, killing time until lunch (reading, usually), eating lunch, napping, waking up, going swimming in the lake, eating dinner, sitting on the porch with a book or newspaper or computer until I had enough of an appetite for an ice cream cone, getting and eating an ice cream cone, and going to bed. Some variations: after dinner, usually there was some playing on the lawn with the kids; once there was kayaking before the swimming; two mornings I worked on a bowl (thrown on a wheel); there was a speaker on Monday night, the "Fund Fair" after lunch Weds., and the variety show thing Thursday. But really, there was mostly a lot of reading and sitting and eating. There were people (kids and adults) reading the new Harry Potter everywhere you looked. I finished it on Monday and thought it was very good. Anyway, if you'd like to see a few photos of my family enjoying the place, click here.

Now I'm back, and the katydids have started up. I hate them. I love hearing crickets, but the onetwothree scratchy katydid noise instantly makes me feel like it's oppressively humid out, even though it's currently about 70 and dry. The noise makes me feel anxious. I think it's a learned response to August heat, seasonal allergies, and the impending return to school. Of course, it could just be that katydids make a loud, annoying, and not-so-pretty noise.

I am back from California. Getting there I was delayed two hours due to weather, both ways. On the way out, the plane pulled out of the gate, stopped, and then stayed there for two hours while they played a free movie for us (Blades of Glory, seen it) and a thunderstorm slowly passed over us. On the way back, I had a stop in Pittsburgh, where my plane was stuck in St. Louis due to a tornado warning. They were two hours late. When it finally arrived, I was extremely dismayed to see it was a very tiny commuter plane, three seats across. It was an hour ride and fairly bumpy and scary, but I survived.

And California. Well, I didn't make it to the Kwik-E-Mart, but I did see Harry Potter at the Universal CityWalk. My ticket cost $11.50, but my seat was like a La-Z-Boy and the screen was dizzyingly big. I also found my way to Griffith Park to ride the mini train they have. I was under the impression it would be steam-powered, but instead it was diesel. I stayed at a Sheraton right next to the Hilton I usually stay at, which was uncharacteristically sold out. I discovered after I arrived that the hotels were filled with people there for a sex toy convention. Actually, the signs said "AVN [that's the organization that puts on the porn awards, that's all I know] Novelty Expo." It took me about a day to figure it out. What tipped me off: Sample bags, like the ones I pick up at Toy Fair, except these had the logos for various kinds of lube on them; a guy wearing a Doc Johnson embroidered polo shirt; me reading a few guests' Expo badges and seeing companies like "O'My Products"; and finally, two girls in push-up bras and super-tight tank tops with www.sweetarousals.com over their boobs. Then there was the motorcycle that had been airbrushed with a constellation of condoms, dildos, single-use lube packets -- I didn't look too long. The best thing about it was that the other people at the hotel, the ones not attending the Expo, were all families with young children. The Expo people were very discrete, mostly. When they chatted in the elevator with me, it was to weigh the pros and cons of using a certain Chinese manufacturer, and they could be talking about any product. And the special motorcycle only came out after dark.

Now I am home and trying to get prepared for a week vacation. I went to my garden after work today and did some triage on my huge tomato plants that had been blown over by the storm on Sunday. A neighbor got his car crushed by a tree, so I got off easy. I picked a bag of snow peas, a lot of basil (just trying to keep up with the flower buds), and my first eggplant. Now I am contemplating using my jet lag to my advantage and doing the midnight Harry Potter pick up. Hmm...

So! Last Sunday I went to Coney Island with my sister, bro-in-law, my 3-year-plus-five-months old niece, and my 5-month-old nephew. It was hot and sunny and pretty much perfect beach weather. It was imperative that we go to Coney sometime this summer because major construction projects will begin at the end of the season, destroying the gritty, fun, anything-goes-and-everyone's-welcome feeling here. I took a bunch of photos and uploaded some of the best here.

Some highlights:

The carousel in the Wonder-Wheel-associated park (not Astroland) was playing awesome dance hits. While S and L were on it, they played "Freak Out."



Nearby, this traffic cone was having the ride of its life.



We spent a long time deciding if we wanted a swinging or stationary car on the Wonder Wheel. We are swingers at heart, though, and eventually we committed to a swinger car.



Here's a view of the aging kiddie park below the Wonder Wheel. Notice how incredibly crowded the beach is.



My niece was delighted. My sister was scared (note white-knuckled gripping action).



My nephew woke up right at the end of the ride.



A few more shots:







For more, including the best pirated Mickey item I've ever seen in the flesh, visit the album above.

Dudes, I know. I KNOW. It's been a while. It's also been too hot and humid for me to think, let alone get up the gumption to upload my photos from my trip to Coney Island (from Sunday). I am way behind on other things, too, and it's not going to get any better; I have another trip to SoCal this upcoming Sunday-Thursday, and then I'm gone the whole week after that. I will have my computer, though, so that might motivate me to post. I have been Twittering, so I encourage you once again to get on that.

Hey! You need some new things, don't you? I mean seriously, just look at yourself. So get on down to Dandie in the Underworld, just behind Osaka, and buy some new things. Perhaps one of these necklaces would do the trick.






Yes, I made them. Yes, they are only $10. Yes, the price is so low that it is hard to believe. But it is true.

In about three weeks I am probably going to southern California again on business. If I do, you'd better believe I'm going to visit the local Kwik-E-Mart.

Some Important Programming Notes:

Saturday morning, from 8 to noon, is the Laurel Park tag sale. It's a great excuse for wandering around my funky little village, plus the Park is populated with freaks and artists with too-small houses, so the pickings should be great (or, at the least, interesting).

Saturday at noon, Dandie in the Underworld officially opens for business. It's a crazy and cute shop filled with handcrafted items from the Valley's finest and funkiest. Directions: Go to the building housing Glamourama and Osaka; walk around it to the right; see the big marquee; head inside; be delighted. I have several shrinky-dinks-based necklaces for sale in there. My stuff is tagged "dew," a name I decided upon after little to no study or thought. It's my initials, that's all. I've been inside the shop a couple of times and I love everything for sale there. I plan on buying some of it, even. So exciting!

The memorial service for my grandmother was very nice. I got emotional and was all trembly-voiced when I went up to speak, but other than that it went beautifully.

My grandmother was always an avid church-goer and loved singing hymns in the choir (she was raised Methodist, but ended life as a Congregationalist). At her service, I read the lyrics of this Sacred Harp song:

329 Vain World Adieu

When for eternal worlds we steer,
And seas are calm and skies are clear,
And faith in lively exercise,
And distant hills of Canaan rise,
The soul for joy then claps her wings,
And loud her hallelujah sings,
Vain world, adieu.

With cheerful hope her eyes explore
Each landmark on the distant shore:
The trees of life, the pastures green,
The crystal stream, delightful scene.
Again for joy she claps her wings,
And loud her hallelujah sings,
Vain world, adieu.

The nearer still she draws to land,
More eager all her pow’rs expand;
With steady helm, and freebent sail,
Her anchor drops within the veil.
Again for joy she claps her wings,
And her celestial sonnet sings,
I’m there at last.


I think she would have liked it.

An addendum to the below: I am so screwed. Or, you know, not. Har har.

An open letter to the guy whose online profile said he was 37, but who admitted in his description he had lied about his age. He contacted me, I asked him how old he was, and he told me he was 47 "but told I look considerably younger."

Dear guy,
You are the fourth man I've come across in the last month who either lied about his age or omitted the information (instead saying the age they "felt like" or "looked like" or something). I'm at a loss as to why. The truth will come out sooner or later, and people who lie about their age, or deny it, are sending two messages: One, that they are ashamed of their age, which is sad to me. Better to say you're 47 and have a woman be pleasantly surprised at how good you look. Two, that they only, exclusively, want to date younger women. Neither of these things are positive messages to be throwing out there.

My longest relationship was with someone who is now about your age, so I would potentially have been a good dating candidate for you. But the age-denying thing is a big red flag for me and, I'd wager, most women.

I know you didn't click on this email expecting a lecture and I'm sorry... you're bearing the brunt of four men's mistakes, and that's not fair. And you probably think I'm crazy. But sometimes I can't help but try to fix easy mistakes like the one I think you're making here. My vote: Tell the truth in your ad.
- Debl

I actually wrote this all out, intending to send it, but my head cooled and I didn't. Dating using computer tools is a lot of work. But I have this crazy dream of not being alone the rest of my life (I know! So crazy!), so here we are.

p.s. He emailed me a photo while I was writing him a considerably shorter, nicer reply than the above, and he does in fact look well-preserved. But it's all ruined now, isn't it? Seriously, do women lie about their age all the time too? The stereotype is that they do, but I'm only seeing the other side.

p.p.s. He wrote me back to my less-hostile email and said he was sorry, I was right, and he edited his profile to show his true age. In a few years I'm going to be all, "Reader, I married him." (Kidding.)

Erin was my grandmother. When we were little we called her Grandmommy, but in the last few years of her life we called her Nean. Like good grandmothers everywhere, she was an excellent baker of cookies and pies, as well as the famous Way Family Granola, and she had the ubiquitous jar of hard candy that had solidified into one big piece. Unlike good grandmothers everywhere, she wasn't particularly warm or effusive with her affection. She was very reserved and liked things to be done the proper way. When we were frustrated with her, we'd secretly call her passive aggressive, but she was really just assertive, even though it came in a "frail old lady" package.

She always seemed slightly sad or disapproving, but that was due to the structure of her face more than anything else. She didn't like talking about herself, and even after we asked, she never told stories about what life was like during the depression and WWII, other than the basic facts of names and dates and who moved to what town after marrying who.

My fondest memories of her have to do with the house in Center Harbor, NH she and my Grandfather bought when we were born -- when we were older, she told me that they bought it so they'd have enough room for us to come for extended stays. The entire second floor of the house was just for guests. It had a huge backyard, a hammock, raspberry bushes and wild blueberries, croquet... and they lived a short drive to the lake's beach. My grandfather would chop wood while my grandmother worked in the kitchen. We visited for at least a couple of weeks every summer, and (I think) every other Christmas. When we grew into pre-teens, they sold the house (breaking our hearts) and bought a boring cookie-cutter one in town, because "you didn't want to visit anymore." Which was probably true, but we wanted the house to always be there just the same.

I remember getting a 12-inch of "Do They Know It's Christmas" one year, and making Nean listen to it, since the song had been in the news a lot. My grandparents always had the radio playing classical music, so having Nean listen to a "rock" song was a novelty. After the song was over she smiled politely and said something vague like "that was fine."

We also watched E.T. (the movie) on cable with her at our house in Jersey. We all loved it and thought she would too, but after it was over she said she had liked it, but that it was "no Wizard of Oz." I was offended (even though it's true). She liked to catch Jeopardy every night, and loved to watch stuff on PBS that may as well have been broadcast from another planet (as far as I was concerned), like the Kennedy Center Honors.

She wasn't a frivolous, silly person, so when she *would* be silly -- flashing a funny face at the camera, or gamely wearing big green Hulk hands (a photo of this is on my parents' fridge door) -- it was beautiful and surprising, like seeing a unicorn.

When I went up to sort through her things a few weeks ago, after she was transferred from her apartment to a nursing room, I found that she had kept every single card we had ever sent her, plus of course all of the various pieces of "art" we'd given her on holidays. She loved us, and wanted us to visit more, to write more. She was very proud of us and loved showing us off to her friends. I think she never really understood my sister and me when we were kids, who were weird and volatile and moody and sparkly, while she was always calm and in control and had lunch on the table at noon every day because that's when lunch is. But -- once after a fiery outburst with my sister (we were home on a break in college) she found me alone and told me that I was sensitive -- and she meant it as a compliment. It was the first time I had ever remotely considered that being sensitive could be a good thing.

Nean died around 4 a.m. Tuesday morning. She was 90 years old.

So I went to California. It is very sunny there -- at least, it's very sunny after it's very foggy (or smoggy -- hard to distinguish), which it is all morning. Ye Olde Theme Park was as fun as always. I was with a slightly-younger co-worker who had never been to any theme park owned by this particular company, so it was exciting to go on the classics with her. We were there for two nights, and then rented a car and drove to Burbank for two nights. We met with some colleagues I'd previously only known via email and phone calls, and it seemed to go fairly well, except for one meeting in which it became apparent we were two factions of underlings without our leaders, and as such had no real power to make anything happen of any consequence. But still, face-to-face stuff is important. So they tell me.

We saw Mariska Hargitay (with child and a short haircut) at the theme park, and The Rock (so completely gorgeous and perfect... seriously, he's charming and has a good sense of humor, and has gotten more slender and less bulky, and is just... we were drooling) at the studio's restaurant. My co-worker thought she saw Lisa Kudrow, and I know Lisa's not super-thin, but I doubt she'd wear clothing that would give her even a tiny muffin-top. But maybe I'm wrong.

We also went out and socialized in Hollywood: once with a beloved former co-worker, and once with a couple of the new co-workers I'd met that day. The former was at a dinner at an "English pub" called the Cat and Fiddle, which is said to be frequented by Morrissey (he wasn't there). We sat in a gorgeous outside patio and dished about everything. She's the kind of woman who buys a combination map of stars' homes and famous crime scenes, and makes a special drive to see the house where the Manson murders happened. She used to cut my hair in a spare office at work, back when my haircut was as simple as can be. She's a trip, and I miss her. After dinner we went to Hamburger Mary's in West Hollywood, which is essentially a gay theme restaurant. Besides the bright red and pink walls and kitsch hanging everywhere, each single-stall unisex bathroom has its own disco ball and "Dancing Queen" playing on a loop. (On the way back from the bathroom, I overheard one guy saying to his group of male friends, "Oh don't tell the flavored condom story again!") The check is presented in a high-heel pump. The waiters are all hot, skinny men, and they take care of you well. We met up with some of my former co-workers' friends and talked trash about celebrities (we were, as a group, unanimously anti-Angelina and pro-Aniston. My people!).

The latter night, we were invited to join some colleagues' Dining Divas night. They're a group of women (mostly single and in their 20s-early 40s, I'd guess, but mostly in their 30s) who get together every month or so and do something different each time. This night was a wine-and-cheese thing for charity held in the outdoor mall right next to the Kodak Theater. I was concerned the group would be kind of boring or false or overly girly, but they ended up being very funny, warm, smart, talkative, confident... It was very inspiring.

So, to sum up: Flying out there is always a bitch, but I had a great time.

Tuesday morning, while I was getting ready to leave my hotel room, my sister IMed me on my laptop that my grandmother had died. I feel like I haven't processed this information yet. I seem to start mourning a long time after the actual passing-away... Maybe I need time to feel the lack of their presence, and when people I don't see very often die, that can take some time. I want to write a blog post all about her, if it doesn't turn too sad or personal or morbid.

Speaking of morbid, when I visited the nest after work yesterday, there were no robins sighted anywhere. I fear the neighborhood cats have made short work of the little guys. Sad. Next time I think I'll remove the nest before any laying happens. Near my house, there aren't enough places to hide out of reach of cats. Damnable beasts.