You Might Be Famous When...

Sixties folk singer Arlo Guthrie said that you know you’re famous when your name turns up in crossword puzzles. Here is another clue that you might be famous:

Morning Summation

THE GOOD: Bob sings Mozart’s part in a performance of “Please Don’t Play Your Violin at Night.” (To the tune of Eine kleine Nachtmusik):

Beethoven:
Please don’t play your violin at night.
Wolfgang go to bed, turn out the light!

Mozart:
But I must play my violin,
At night my violin;
Must be beneath my chin.
I love the music of the night
I won’t turn out the light.
Oh, I love music in the night.

Beethoven:
But the music so late at night
Makes it quite hard to go to asleep, asleep.

Mozart:
But the music that I play at night is light.
Maybe you should try counting sheep!
Try counting sheep, it will help you sleep!

Beethoven:
Sheep will never help me sleep!

Mozart:
You should try counting sheep!

Beethoven:
No, sheep won’t help me sleep!
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep.

Mozart:
Sheep, sheep, sheep, sheep!

Beethoven:
Sheep won’t help me sleep!
Won’t help me sleep!

THE BAD: Privacy

AND THE UGLY: Help me!!!

Balls 2-K

Judging from the nature of this month’s blog, I think it’s easy to say that I’ve mostly babbled. I do that when I’m anxious you know. I can run on and on if I don’t mentally tell myself to shut the hell up before I drive everyone around me crazy. The first airing of Mozartballs is on Sunday. That’s in Finland, so there’ll be an eight hour time difference. That also means that from midnight tomorrow night through four in the afternoon on Sunday I won’t be worth much and I’ll be hounding Lynette to let me use my computer to check site stats and all that.

I don’t know what to expect, to be honest. Will people go to their computers as soon as the closing credits begin to roll and start Googling me? I’m thinking it will mostly be a lot like Y2K: a lot of nail-biting apprehension and then… nada. And I’m not sure which reaction I really want. Yeah, right! That’s a lie from the bowels of hell! I want my sites to be flooded with visitors and my email box filled with letters. Of course that’s what I want! And then I have the Victoria and Cannes screenings to worry about, as well as all of the other airings worldwide within the next two weeks.

I have a feeling you’re going to witness a lot of babbling…

This afternoon (yesterday to you people who sleep at night) Nettl and I went to Leo’s and I ate two bowls of hot and sour soup. I think that’s my favorite food in the entire world of gastronomy. Anyone have a tasty, easy recipe for it? Geor3ge??? (By the way, the Asian food market closed down. Bastards!) Afterward, we went to a little gourmet boutique called “Company’s Coming” to do a little shopping for the party, and got a bag of Manner hazelnut wafers that are imported from Vienna and some cocktail napkins that are perfect for this party. We checked out their cheeses and other party fare while the owner tried to score some Mirabell Mozartkugeln (after which the film is named) for us by calling her wholesale dealers, but no luck. Ah well. What a nice lady! After that, we went to a local florist shop that doubles as a boutique with a Godiva Chocolatier counter, where I got some vanilla hazelnut coffee for our guests who prefer that over wine and champagne… or who would like it after the wine and champagne. Lynette dropped me at home then and while she went out shopping I took a nap.

I love afternoon naps. I love the way the light filters in through the shades and the sheers, and the coziness of our bed with all the pillows and the faux mink throw I bought her Christmas before last. Yep. Naps are a happy thing in my book. When I woke up I worked on my party menu and grocery list. Man, I’m still full from lunch.

Anyone notice that no one seemed to be on the web all day and evening? Weird. Was there a party, and I wasn’t invited?

Well, here I am babbling. Told ya.

Easily Pleased

Whenever I find myself in the happy position of getting a little extra money from an unexpected source, I don’t go out and buy myself the usual things—clothes, shoes, CDs, etc. I buy things the house has needed for a while. Light bulbs for the china hutch and fireplace, water clearer for the big aquarium, and a new coffeemaker. We’d had our old one since the spring and summer of 2000 when we lived in Denver and, although it still worked, the white was yellowing and there was a 2-inch crack on the bottom of the carafe. After dinner tonight I went out and got these few things. At first, I was just going to buy a replacement carafe, but it alone was $10. For $15 more I got this beautiful Black & Decker 12-cup, programmable coffeemaker.

Already a fan of gold tone baskets (I gave up paper filters years ago—yech), I like this model because it comes with its own. Now I have two, just in case. The best thing about this coffeemaker is that, although it was really inexpensive, it looks like a pricey appliance and it goes well with the cappuccino/espresso maker Lynette got me for Christmas. One day I’ll get an all-in-one unit, but for now I’m very happy with my new morning friend. As Lynette says, I’m as happy as a puppy with two peters. My next purchase will be a stainless steel toaster. I really don’t like small appliances to be white—they just look cheap to me.

Nettl has a new work schedule that allows her to come home at 1:00 on Fridays, so we’ve designated Friday afternoon as our “date lunch” day. We seldom get out alone, and we decided we really need to take this time to be together without the demands of raising three teenagers. Today, we’re going to pillage the buffet at Leo’s Peking Palace. Their food has greatly improved since they bought out our favorite, the Thai Cafe. The Thai chef has taken over the kitchen and he brought his menu with him. The buffet still has a whole lot of chicken, but there’s more variety in how it’s prepared.

Blame Monty

It’s her fault that you have to deal with yet another meme.

1. Hum a jingle to which you know all the words:
I’m with Monty. If I know the words, why do I have to hum it? Anyway, here’s the jingle:

Meow meow meow meow,
Meow meow meow meow;
Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow!
Meow meow meow meow,
Meow meow meow meow;
Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow!
Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow,
Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow;
Meow meow meow meow meow.
Me-ow!

2. As a kid, you played a board game over and over. And you cheated, you little bastard. What was the game?
Cheat!? I didn’t cheat. I was smarter than the other kids and didn’t have to cheat! And it pissed me off when someone else did. I always ratted on them too. Bet I’m the egg-headed kid you all hated!

3. What is the name of the song that you’ve been singing the incorrect words all these years? What were you singing? What should you have been singing?
Monty and I have the same song. Cool! Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet. Here’s what I thought he said:

Wasted away in Margaritaville, searching for my outlaw shaker of salt.

But what he actually says is:

Wasted away in Margaritaville, searching for my long-lost shaker of salt.

4. What is the most embarrassing childhood story that your parents drag(ged) out just to fuck with you for their own private amusement?
My mother used to love to tell people about the time when I was five, and my uncle was wrestling with me. I kept saying I had to pee (tickling did that to me). He wouldn’t stop, and I hated being tickled, so I peed all over him.

Battling the Hydra

I used to say, “I feel like I’m standing outside a door that is just beginning to open.” I used to say, “My future is waiting for me and I’m going to chase it and pin it to the ground.” Lately I’m saying, “I feel like I’ve strapped myself to the railroad track and I can hear a whistle blowing.”

I don’t mind admitting that I’m scared. As my mother used to say, “I’m as nervous as a pregnant nun in church.” When you see the film, you’ll understand why. I can’t tell you right now, but you’ll see. I know that we’re “not supposed” to admit when we’re anxious about our dreams coming true, and I’m sure someone out there will take my vulnerability and try to slap me around with it somewhere down the line, but my job as a blogger/diarist is to be honest, so that’s what I’m doing.

Last night I had what was probably the worst panic attack I’ve ever experienced, but at least it was good for one thing. I now know how many tiles make up my bathroom floor. I’ve been working very hard at growing a thicker skin, but the truth is, although I’m a very strong person, I’m not at all tough. Years ago, my friend, Jacki said to me, “I finally figured you out. You’re like an egg. An egg is the strongest non man-made object in the world, but it’s also the most fragile.”

A 33° Freemason from my Lodge did an in-depth astrological reading on me in the winter of 2000. As we sat in his study, he looking over my chart and I fidgeting with a glass of cabernet, he suddenly spun around in his desk chair and asked, “Why in hell aren’t you famous!? You’re supposed to be famous! You have a chart that rivals figures like Gandhi, Mozart, the Beatles! What happened that made you so afraid to claim your birthright?”

As we spoke, he handed me a tiny figure of a hydra that was chiseled from stone and he told me to hold it. He then told me that I had a hydra to conquer, and that to do so, I had to get down into the swamp water with it; I could not fight it from above, nor from the shore. He said that I could not fight it alone because, for every head I cut off two more would grow back in its place; I needed someone to wait until I cut off a head, then they would jump in and cauterize it with a torch so that it couldn’t grow back.

Having studied my Greek mythology well through the years, I thought about this particular myth as he spoke, and wondered how it applied to me. Who, or what, was my hydra? If I was the Heracles in my myth, then who would be my Iolaus? Lynette? My Masonic Brother told me that, yes, Lynette, but many other people would come to help me with this beast.

I said to him, “Heracles wasn’t credited with killing the hydra though, because he needed other people to help him.” As soon as that came out of my mouth, I got it and we smiled at each other. “Always remember,” he said, “that your future is not your achievement only, but also the achievement of many people who will believe in you.”

I’ve pondered this myth a lot since that evening in 2000, but never has the wisdom of it—and the advice of my Brother—come home so clearly to me than during the past 24 hours. I’ve lopped off a lot of heads in the past and they’ve worn many faces. Some at first have appeared friendly and some were more honest in their acrimony, but the fiercest face—the one that frightens me the most—looks like me. Or rather, a face of mirror glass that reflects my fear back to me. That is the one that will take the most strength to slay. I’m working on it.

Maybe I Should Discontinue the Meds

Maybe this cold medication is getting to me. I have phrases running through my head like, “Jelly Lobsters”, “Welfare Spokes” and “Two-Plop Jalops”.

I only take them once every 24 hours. I promise.

I Need To See the Oracle

I’ve had enough of this crap! I have things to do and I refuse to feel like this!

Tonight when I went upstairs to the family room to feed the fish, I heard the toilet in the adjoining bath running, running, running. We’ve been through this before. (Who hasn’t?) So I took the lid off and futzed around with the float, then flushed. Running…running…running… I futzed with it some more. Still running. “Fart-knockin-piece-a-dad!” I growled. “I don’t feel like doing this!” After about ten minutes of this crap I absently twisted the filler tube and voila! It stopped running. How do things like that happen? I mean, nobody opened up the tank and turned that tube one-sixteenth of an inch in a clockwise direction just to make it run and piss me off.

Anyway, holding my aching head in one hand, I ambled toward the corner where the aquariums are and noticed that one of the plants in the bay window was drooping. I took it into the bathroom and watered it. Finally, getting to my original destination, I noticed that the large tank was murky and that the water recycler wasn’t pumping any water. Grumbling, I took out the old filter, took it into the bathroom and threw it away. I got a new filter assembly from the cabinet, poured the charcoal into the little mesh bag, clipped it shut, and was going to rinse it, but the plant was still in the sink. I took the plant back to the window and returned to the sink in the bathroom, where I rinsed the filter clean of any charcoal dust. When I put in into the filter housing, the water still didn’t pump through, so I took the actual pump/rotor/twirly thing out and to the sink to rinse it. It was full of pieces of plant. After I put it all back together the pump worked fine again.

WTF? Tanks, pumps, water… What does it all mean?

Am I Not the Most Fortunate of Spouses?

While I sat writing my last couple of entries, Nettl was out getting groceries. Suddenly, she came in with a bag in her arms. “Guess what I got for yo-ou…” she teased. I turned and watched as she pulled out a six-pack of Trumer Pils (the only Austrian beer we can find here—thanks for the tip, Beau & Deb!) and a matching pilsner glass, manufactured by the brewery. And not merely an Austrian beer, but from the oldest brewery in Salzburg. She then informed me that she’s making dinner tonight, which will also be Austrian.
What a woman! I love you, Wanze!

Dialogue

Nettl (around noon): “Do you want me to get your cold meds?”
Me: “No. I just woke up, and I’m still feeling the wine from last night.”

Nettl (around 3:30): “Do you want me to get your cold meds now?”
Me: “No. They’ll just make me sleepy.”

Nettl: (around 10:00, standing over me with a glass of water, two little pills, and a stern demeanor): “You’re taking these and that’s the end of it. You’re not making this decision.”

Now I’m wide awake, but I admit I feel better.

Life After Remote

Our remote for the telly in our bedroom started going out last week. At first, the channels would go ’round and ’round when I simply wanted to go up to the next one. This would be nice for surfing, but it wouldn’t stop until I pulled the back off of the thing and took out one of the batteries. Of course, my first thought was that it was indeed the batteries going, so I put in new ones. It seemed to help for a few days.

The next thing to go was the volume. If I wanted to increase it a little, it got stuck and went up all the way. This wasn’t so nice the first time it happened at 2:30 in the morning when Nettl was asleep. It did the same thing when decreasing the volume, which wasn’t quite as irritating. Still, these little glitches happened only once in a while so I didn’t sweat it.

As of last night, however, it’s completely unusable. Everything stayed stuck all of the time when it was just lying on the bed, with neither of us even touching it. I “retired” it. What should I have expected? We bought it at Big Lots for a whopping four bucks. So now I have to live without a remote until I can get over to Satan*Mart to buy a new one.

I’m pathetic, really. The TV sits on a table beside my desk; I can reach the controls without even moving much, just a small stretch of my left arm. In my own defense though, the controls are little black buttons on the bottom of the set and I really can’t see which one is which with my ever-weakening eyes. It’s like reading Braille.

I remember life before remote controls. We didn’t channel surf in those days. Of course, there were only three channels where I lived: KEYT Santa Barbara, KCOY Santa Maria and, if the weather was nice, KSBY San Luis Obispo. Later, after we moved to Ventura County and had access to L.A.’s channels, it was a different matter. I still remember getting up at night after everyone but my dad was in bed, and walking past the living room to see him sitting on his ottoman right in front of the set, turning the large channel dial. Manual surfing.

He was an electronic genius, so it didn’t take him long to invent, and build, the first TV remote I and my friends had ever seen. It was connected to the telly by a wire, and the loud “ka-chunk, ka-chunk” noise the set made with every channel change pounded right through the wall and into my head that lay not eight inches away. But that was in my pre-insomnia days when I was a teen and could sleep through the Jimi Hendrix Experience on my record player.

I’m not really a channel surfer though. In fact, I wish I had an expensive remote that would store my favorite channels so that I could travel between them without being subject to Joan Rivers’ drumhead-taut face peddling a miracle wrinkle cream (sorry babe, but all that cosmetic surgery didn’t come out of a $30 bottle of goo), the Mad Money guy screaming at me like a banshee, and that scary pink haired Lady whose eye make-up melts down her face when she prays. I watch only a few channels, actually: Food TV, HGTV, Travel channel, History channel, Bravo, Movieplex, PBS… Still, the ability to surf allows me to see just what I’m not missing on all of the other channels. I miss that.

A Morning Hodge-Podge

Last night Allen came over just after seven o’clock to watch Mozartballs for the first time. He also brought with him a bottle of champagne. (If you ever come to my house and bring a bottle of wine you’ll always be invited back.) After a little chit-chat with the family, he, Nettl and I retreated upstairs to the family room and sat back to watch the film. I was a little nervous about Allen seeing it. He’s professor of Musicology at OSU, so his opinion was very important to me. Well, he loved it and we sat around discussing it for hours afterward. Nettl went to bed at one, and Allen and I continued talking about music and drinking wine until four in the morning. Needless to say, I’m a wee bit hungover today, but I don’t care. I had a great time.

Oh, and I found out Allen still be here for the screening party.

Thanks to Bob, I now have “In Cars” by Gary Numan stuck in my head.

***BURP!***
I think I need some tomato juice…

Morning Hodge-Podge

As if my constantly pecking on the PC keyboard, Nettl working on her historical fiction and Heather currently writing a fantasy novel aren’t enough, Nathan has now joined the flock of writers in our house. Yes, our long-haired skateboarding boy with the radiant, ornery smile has done something we never saw coming. He has written an essay that made it into the top 3 of his school and which is now eligible to go to the state competition and win some sizable bucks. The topic? Why Patriotism Is Vital In Today’s Society. (Can you tell we live in Oklahoma?) How’d he write something like that? After all, he lives in a household that isn’t particularly patriotic, not in the "My country right or wrong" sense. When I asked, he told me, “I didn’t know what to say because I’m not patriotic. I just wrote what they wanted to hear. I just wrote out a bunch of George Bush kinda bull shit.” Hm. Methinks we may have a budding White House press correspondent on our hands.

Hello Out There!

It has come to my attention that today kicks off National De-Lurking Week. If you’re a regular—or even an irregular—reader, then take a few seconds to say hi. You don’t have to leave your email address or web page, if you have one. Just a hello and a first name will do!

UPDATE Jan. 16th: Many thanks to all of you who de-lurked this week! That wasn’t so painful, was it? There’s still one more day for the rest of you

Pulse Point

At night when we sleep, Nettl and I like to be touching each other in some way. Usually it’s our feet, or one foot anyway. We like to cuddle, but that lasts only so long because we get too warm. Last night when I finally went to bed, one of her feet found one of mine, and as I lay there waiting to fall asleep, I could feel her pulse gently tapping against my own. At first they were out of sync, but as my heart rate relaxed our pulses began to find each other; they slowly became one pulse and it created a kind of music. Of course, I believe everything is music anyway, or at least I interpret everything musically. As I lay there observing this little miracle, I felt a surge of love for life fill me, and along with it a sense of perfect now-ness. Everything made perfect sense and all of my worries and concerns melted away. The Ram Das book, Be Here Now, came to my mind. I don’t know how long I lay there taking in the experience, but I fell asleep contented and carefree.

Now is really all we have; every second, every pulse, comes and goes. So many of these seem to slip past us unnoticed, and unremembered. I’ll carry those few moments I experienced last night in my memory for the rest of my life. Funny how miniscule pinholes of enlightenment open up to us once we just stop and live in the moment.

Don't Ask

This morning our 15 year-old daughter walked into your bedroom and asked,

“What does Fleischhosen mean in English?”

"It's German for Meat Pants," I replied.

She shrugged. "That makes sense."

After she left, Nettl and I looked at each other and started laughing.

I have no idea...

Almost Instant Karma

While waxing metaphysical, I notice that I’ve been tagged. Lil Red got me back—I tagged her on Friday—now, I’m obliged to return the favor by telling you a few random facts about me. No number was specified, so I’ll give you ten.

1. I have nothing whatsoever to do with money. Although (or maybe because) I was in accounting for 25 years, when Nettl and I got together I gave the finances to her. I simply hand her the checks and I have my debit card. That’s the extent of my financial involvement. She tells me what we have—or don’t have—and I act accordingly (I’m not a spender anymore, anyway). I’m much happier this way and my ulcers are all gone.
2. I drum on everything around me. Tabletops, counters, sofa and chair arms—everything is either a drum head or a piano keyboard to my fingers. My feet constantly tap out rhythms, too.
3. My head is full of music every second of the day and night. When I’m not “listening” to it, it sounds like when an orchestra tunes up before a concert. When I am listening to it, well, I call that composition because I have to work with it until I have something worth writing down.
4. I have hydrophobia. When I was two, a kid pushed me into the deep end of a pool and my 8-month pregnant aunt jumped in to save me. I nearly drowned, and was taken to the hospital. Once, back in 1971 when I was high on ’shrooms, I spent all day in a pool (at Stephen Stills’ house in Laurel Canyon) in an attempt to “make friends” with water. I taught myself to swim that day, but I still don’t like being in water. Besides, I sunburn to a dangerous degree, so although I’m a native southern Californian, I’ve never fit that stereotype. No big loss to me.
5. I have an online pen name that is an anagram of “Steph Waller”. No, I won’t tell you.
6. I love to dance!
7. I have a quick, hot temper, but I’ve learned to keep it in check—until I feel I’ve been taken for granted. Even then, I’ll take and take, and then I blow up with no warning, leaving people asking, “Where the hell did that come from?” I’m almost at that point now, in a couple of situations in my life.
8. I’m a knee-jiggler.
9. Inside, I stopped at about age 30. The older I get, the less my outside matches my inside.
10. When I clean house, I always put my ELO Out of the Blue CD. Always have.

Snigature

Well, tonight we began un-decorating our house. We’ll finish tomorrow. Christmas is over and it’s time to pack up the Baroque angels, the golden music instrument ornaments, and the gold glitter curly weirds, and put them all back out in the garage. It’s always kind of sad, and the living room always looks a little bare when things are put back to normal. But we’ve decided to keep Yo-Yo (our Betta) and his tank back here in our bedroom. I like the way we watches me as I sit here at my computer.

Of course, this means that now I have to go out and take down the Christmas lights that I procrastinated putting up for so long. Back in the early ’80s there was a show on the brand new HBO. I can’t remember what it was called, but there was a segment called Sniglets that was hosted by Rich Hall. I remember only a few of these Sniglets, but my favorite was “NERKEL” (ner - kul). A Nerkle is someone who leaves their Christmas lights up all year. I am not a Nerkel. Here are some more Sniglets that I remember:

• Nevitts ( neh - itz) : The sandpaper-like bumps on cats’ tongues.
• Stroodle (stroo - duhl) : The long string of scalding hot cheese that always burns your mouth when you take a bite of pizza.
• Polarind (po - la- rynd) : That thing you used to peel off of a Polaroid snapshot.

And here are a couple that my friends and I invented years ago:

• Spleeb (just like it looks) : That irritating squeaking noise that sneakers make on wood or vinyl floors.
• Bevemirage (bev - a - mir - ahj) : That dark plastic bottom on the big coke bottles that makes you think there’s some left when there isn’t.
• Jemimites (Ja- my - mites) : Those little round splatters you get on the griddle when you make pancakes.

Okay. I think it’s time to go get some pedaeration.*

* (ped - air - ay - shun) :
Perfect body heat achieved by having one leg under the sheet and one hanging off the edge of the bed.

Not Again...

I’d been asleep for only a little over three hours and was in the middle of a great jam session with George Harrison. We were really wailing together on our guitars. Then the phone rang and woke me up. A pox on telephones! A plague on people who think everyone in the frickin’ world lives in the 8 to 5 hamster wheel! A curse on medical receptionists who are chatty and perky—when it’s obvious by my slurred speech and inability to understand what they’re trying to tell me—that my brain is functioning on only two cylinders and my mouth hasn’t gotten the memo that the brain factory has been suddenly forced to fire up.

Okay. Get a grip, Waller. Coffee’s ready.

Geor3ge Made Me Do It

Guess I have to do this since Geor3ge from A College Gin Run put me on his “Seven People I Want to Join in Too” list.

Seven Things To Do Before I Die:

1. Compose another opera
2. Live in Vienna
3. Be an invited visitor to Alton Brown’s set to watch a taping
4. Say, “This is the last time I’ll ever have to do the laundry” and know it’s true
5. Teach the kids to put the seat AND lid down
6. Make the perfect cappuccino. (Variation of Geor3ge’s response)
7. Conduct one of my own pieces

Seven Things I Cannot Do:

1. Drink mixed drinks. Ooh, my ulcer!
2. Stop the clowns
3. Walk past the powder room without putting the lid AND the seat down
4. Do a cartwheel. Never could
5. Be happy without friends
6. Figure out how the hell I’ve managed to live in Oklahoma for five years (variation of Geor3ge’s response)
7. Make Geor3ge and Noelle move back to Oklahoma

Seven Things That Attract Me To… Blogging:

1. Meeting people
2. Unbridled Narcissism
3. Piddling around with web design
4. Slim chance that I’ll be asked to speak at the Okie Blogger Round-Up some year
5. Keeping in touch with friends who live far away
6. Keeps me from doing the laundry
7. Hoping I’ll one day become a Higher Being in the TTLB Ecosystem

Seven Things I Say Most Often:

1. “Fart-knockin-piece-a-dad!”
2. “I care, don’t I.”
3. “I love you, Wanze.”
4. “This isn’t a hotel and I’m not a maid.”
5. “When we move to Vienna…”
6. “Damned phone.”
7. “Man, that was a good one!”

Seven Books That I Love:

1. A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin & Henry Miller - Gunther Stuhlman
2. Under Milkwood - Dylan Thomas
3. Mozart: A Cultural Biography - Robert Gutman
4. The Elegant Universe - Brian Greene
5. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
6. Gödel, Escher, Bach - Douglas Hofstadter
7. Conversations With Henry Miller - Frank Kersnovski & Alice Hughes

Seven Movies That I Can Watch Over and Over Again:

1. Office Space (left this in from A College Gin Run)
2. What Dreams May Come
3. Affair of the Necklace
4. I, Claudius (yes, I know it’s a series. So bite me.)
5. Animal House
6. Monsoon Wedding
7. Barry Lyndon

Seven People I Want To Join In Too:

1. The Daily Bitch
2. Lip Schtick
3. Byzantium’s Shores
4. Neither Clever nor Witty
5. Nettl’s Notes
6. Ethan Welles
7. A Sweet, Familiar Dissonance

What's Wrong With People?

Granted, the dry and unseasonably warm conditions have been major factors, but most, if not all of these fires were caused by carelessness and arson.

What’s wrong with people? I’ve seen people throw burning cigarette butts out of their pick-up truck windows. Being from California, where hefty fines and jail time control a lot of this, I was astonished when I first moved here. People in Oklahoma litter like I’ve never witnessed anywhere else, and tossing burning cigarette butts out the window is insane, regardless of the weather conditions. And it doesn’t take an Einstein to know that you just don’t BBQ on a day when the winds are blowing 40 and 50 miles per hour and there's a statewide Burn Ban in place.

And then there’s the arson thing. Are these @$$holes so needy of attention that they’ll set a fire when the state is already an inferno? What’s your point!?

The longer I’m on this planet, the less sense it makes to me.

Action Figures For the Rest of Us

At last, action figures you can be proud of. Want Oscar Wilde? Albert Einstein? Jane Austin? Jesus? Mozart? Get them here:

Accoutrements

Uneventful & Nice

We did absolutely nothing last night for New Year’s Eve. Well, not exactly nothing. Nettl put out some munchies and we enjoyed a family evening. Nettl and I had a couple of glasses of champagne and we let the kids have some Asti Spumante. Well, not exactly a couple of glasses. Nettl had two, I think, and I had three or four. Mostly, we sat in the living room with music on, then around 11:00 we all came into our bedroom to watch “Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve.” I swear that man is in league with Old Scratch. He looks great. Well, not exactly great. But he looks better than most people his age who’ve had a major stroke.

Today, Nettl and I enjoyed a “House Cat Day” lolling about on our bed watching the Iron Chef America marathon on Food TV. I made us a brunch and we had a couple of mimosas as we watched the New Year Concert from Vienna on OETA. Then we napped. While Nettl took Lauren to work I got a melodic idea that I wrote down.

I can hardly stand the excitement.

Actually, after the crazy holiday season we’ve finally come through, today was completely wonderful. Tomorrow I’ll be making some screen captures from the film. I need to ask Rhombus Media when (and if) I can upload them to the photo gallery and perhaps place one or two here.

Before uploading this entry I must say something about the Vienna concert. It was terrific! Sure, Strauss waltzes and polkas are fun to hear every year, but the bright light this year was Maestro Maiss Jansons. He was actually more fun than the concert itself. During the final cadence of the Eduard Strauss Telephone Polka, he did a schtick with his cell phone ringing. He stopped the orchestra while he struggled with the phone, then brought down the final note. The other highlight (for me, anyway) was the Joseph Lanner piece, “Die Mozartisten”, Walzer op. 196, that was played to usher in the Mozart Year. The last CD I bought of the New Year concert was in 1987, and that was because Kathleen Battle was the featured soloist. I’ll be buying this year’s. It was delightful.

New Year's Resolutions

I’m not one to make resolutions for every year that comes along because I know I’m too apt to let myself down. I think we too often relate resolutions to denying ourselves things we really enjoy. I’m a hedonist, I admit, and I’ve never been a believer in, “Life’s a bitch, and then you die.” I personally think life is what we make it — with a bit of crapola thrown in to keep things interesting and to keep us growing and evolving. But before I gallop into 2006 on a philosophical tirade, here are some resolutions I can live with:

• Drink more water
• Watch less television
• Read more
• Get over being middle-aged. It happens to everyone
• Get over the few extra pounds middle-age has given me. Who really cares
• Go to bed earlier and get up earlier
• Get outside more
• Take less crap from people
• Make more music
• Keep believing. Why stop now?

It's Officially Mozart Year 2006

Now that The Skull has been scientifically determined not to be Mozart’s, Mozart Year 2006 has officially begun. Some people think that is what the Birthday Boy might think of all the falderol, but personally, I believe he’d eat it up and still want more.

Thanks to our friend, Liz, for the image and the link.

Happy Mozart Year!