I'm going through some stuff of mine that my mom had been storing. Among the books I now have Where the Wild Things Are, William Blake's Inn, Caretakers of Wonder, A Woggle of Witches, and one called Good Times: Every Kid's Book of Things to Do. Coolest book ever. So in honor of finding this again, I'm going to post one of the activities:

A RECIPE FOR CHALK

eggshells from 6 or more eggs
1 tsp. of very hot water
1 tsp. flour
a rock

Wash the eggshells so there's no egg bits left. Dry well. Grind them to a fine powder with a rock or mortar and pestle or something.

When you're "absolutely sick of grinding" and have enough of the powder, pick out any bits of not-very-ground up shell.

Measure flour and hot water into a small dish and stir them together, forming a paste. Take a soup spoon full of the powder and add it to the paste. Shape this into a chalk stick and roll it up in a strip of paper towel. Let it dry for at least three days. Peel off the paper towel and go find a sidewalk.

Another few treasures:

a puzzle of an image by Kitagawa Utamaro of a Japanese tea
a guide to Hearst Castle and one for Colleen Moore's Fairy Castles.

The Fairy Castle is this (was anyway—this is from the early 80s) collection of incredibly detailed miniatures in a miniature castle. And as I'm reading the brochure it says Colleen Moore has different-colored eyes. Like me.

I'm a little worried. See, I think I'm running out of stories to tell. I have plenty more stories, of course, but for legal reasons I've been advised not to tell them. So I'm worried.

I suppose I'll go spruce up the 20 or so old rants I have. No one reads them, but having crappy writing online makes me cringe.

Which brings up a point: I must have an ego the size of a small war-torn country to have this page on my site. It exists off the notion that other people care one iota about anything I think about. How sad of me.

And yet, I persist. My newest goal is to get the planetclaire.org merchandise circulating. I'm gonna buy myself a t-shirt and something else this week. Sweeeeeeet. I don't make any money off of it, I don't think it'll help promote the site at all, but I just would be the happiest girl in the world if I was walking down the street one day and someone had a planetclaire.org shirt or something.

See? My ego again.

The Jury round-up:

There's a "detritus" mention. I think TF likes that word.
The guy from Office Space
Mary Pembleton again

I go back and forth about The Jury. I like it overall, though sometimes it's just so heavy-handed. But I think I'll miss it.

It's not The Jury-related, but Meloni was on Conan last night. Conan's monologue had me rolling. It's almost as funny as his interviews with Rebecca Romijn-Stamos from years ago. Right now, Halle Berry is on and he's jumping around like a cat. I love Conan.

I do hate the whole "unrehearsed anecdote" style of interviews. Meloni's stories are too canned. Funny enough stories, but you get the feeling he's told these stories ad infinitum. Eh, he's still very charismatic.

On the way home from work tonight I was stopped at a light and noticed a man and two kids walking down the sidewalk and this teenager walking toward them and trying to light a cigarette. As they passed, they all stopped and were chatting. I thought it seemed odd, so I watched.

Sure enough. Drug deal.

Which reminded me of a story:

When I was in high school, I lived in a house with a study that faced the alley. I spent copious amounts of time there: doing homework, playing on the computer, going online, etc. Across from the alley was a duplex owned by a woman, who lived in the front and rented the back to a young woman with two young kids.

I'm not a nosy person, but I couldn't help but notice cars pull into the driveway all the time. Never the same car or person. They'd go into this woman's apartment, stay 15 minutes to half-an-hour, and leave. I used to joke to people that a dealer lived there. My mom would always scold me. "Claire! Don't tell people that! They'll get the wrong idea."

See where this is going yet?

One night around 10 pm, I was on the computer when I heard a tremendous crash and lots of shouting. It was coming from across the alley. So mom and I, curious, wandered outside in time to see a big paddy wagon parked in the alley, a seriously smashed-in back door, and a lot of cops. Mom asked one of them what was going on and he says (severely condescendingly and in this John Wayne voice), "Nothing to see, here, ma'am. Some bad people were living in that house. I need you to go back inside." Side note: I'm not paraphrasing. That's what he said: "bad people." Like mom was six or something.

Anyway, turns out this woman's boyfriend had moved in and was dealing out of the place. And they were both wanted in connection with a murder. The owner failed to get a background check.

Good times, good times...

Complete shift: Holy crap!! K Mart just had an ad on with an Iffy song! Wild. I've only seen them in concert once, opening up for Tim Easton at the 400 Bar.

Oo! Good story:

I went with Shannon to this show. We got there early so we could get a good table. Little did we know...

Iffy started. They were in a good mood and kept joking that [Jim] Boquist (I forget which brother) didn't get the memo regarding their matching outfits. It was cute. Then in between Iffy and Tim, a couple sat down at our table and decided to chat. They were these weird, too-cool-for-school types that wore all black, smoked galoises, and were steeped in pretension. The guy told us, completely unasked, that he was a Playboy photographer. And we're like, Um, okay. Then he gets this glint in his eye, and says, "Or maybe I'm lying. You'll never know!" Shannon and I looked at each other. No, we'll never care. Subtle—yet big—difference.

Anyway, Tim came on and had a great set and Shannon loved it. The couple? Not so much. Apparently they didn't come for the music and kept trying to talk to us. Finally, in the middle of Tim, they left. Relieved, we settled in again. Tim finished and left the stage.

Then these two guys sat down at our table, raring to chat. It seems they were there for Eitzel only. Fine, whatever. I don't even remember what we talked about. Don't really care either. Finally Mark came on and I really wasn't into his stuff. I've heard great things about him and I believe he's critically acclaimed, but I just wasn't feeling him.

Our newfound friends were, however. They were clapping and screaming and yelling out songs, and Shannon and I were just praying that no one thought these guys were with us. I think we even tried telling people around us as much.

Partway into the set, Mark was chatting up the crowd and said something about how great Tim Easton was and how much he was enjoying touring with him. One of our tablemates screamed at the top of his lungs, "He's not as good as you!"

Mark stopped, stared at the guy for a second, and said, quite clearly, "Fuck you." And proceeded into the next song. The screamer looked crestfallen. I just clapped as hard as I could for my new best friend.

And that is why I will always love Mark Eitzel.

Let's go on to a happier topic: Violence!

Controlled violence, anyway. Today was the 6th annual Gardner Hardware Anvil Drop. Featuring live music, hot dogs, cold pop, hardware reps, and an anvil dropping from a four-story building onto a car. It is preceded by half-a-dozen watermelon, which fling watermelon bits onto the crowd. After the anvil, the car is ceremoniously chainsawed in half. It's really really cool.

Seriously.

If ever you're in downtown Minneapolis and happen to hear about this event, head on over to the warehouse district. It's worth it.

This year was quite the success, with (I'm guessing) at least 100-125 people. It had media coverage even. And the band was a new thing. It's gonna be on the news tomorrow. WCCO. The owner was very pleased, as was his wife and son. Who just happen to be my uncle, aunt and nephew, respectively.

I got a free shirt out of the deal. They rule.

Anyway, it was fun. I think the crowd got into it. But it's hard not to get excited over exploding fruit.

So, in conclusion: Go to Gardner Hardware for all your home repair/hardware needs. Why?

Because it's been around for 122 years. Because it'll give you indie cred. Because when your suburban friends mention going to Menard's or Homey D's you can say, "Home Depot? That's so pedestrian. I go to Gardner in the Warehouse District." Or you can call it "the North Loop" to be really in the know.

Or because you're a fan of Gluek's and if you go to Gardner you can say you go to the same place Gluek's does for all their hardware needs (as one of the owners told me).

I gotta go political this morning. Sorry.

As I read more and more articles about the political situation and, more pointedly, the censorship and kowtowing that is happening with the current administration and its supporters, respectively, I am growing genuinely concerned for both the United States as a whole and basic freedoms (speech, religion, press) as a guaranteed right for all people.

I'm not gonna back this up with any articles or statements of fact. Simply because any single one of those can be counter-argued. I'm no politico. I realize that no one political group is completely right and pure and true. I'm not that naive.

All I'm sayin' is I've read/heard enough—from both sides of the political spectrum—to be scared.

Any president that mentions perhaps cancelling the presidential election (and only the presidential election, mind you) if there is an act of terror, is enough to convince me who to vote for. If I get to vote.

Was that terribly liberal? Sorry. No more politics. Back to happy frappy nonsense and television quotes.