The Read Goes Ever Ever On ...

Tea: Blueberry with ginger.

Music: Alice in Chains, "Would?"

Time: Night.

I'm rereading Tolkien.

First, The Silmarillion. Now, The Hobbit. Next, the Lord of the Rings trilogy. After that, probably Smith of Wootton Major and Farmer Giles of Ham. Then I'll close out with his translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (one of five versions I have of that poem), Pearl and Sir Orfeo. (I used to have Leaf by Niggle and The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, but no longer.)

I've read and re-read (and re-re-, re-re-re-, etc.) all of them. Why the latest return trip?

Because few writers pull me in the way Tolkien does. Most fantasy books leave me lukewarm at best, but his work (for lack of a better cliché) transcends the genre. He hits all the myth buttons (the orphan/son of a widow, the wizard guide, the Great Quest), but does so deftly. It's familiar, yet not dully so. And every time I read his work, I find something new.

So ... it's back to Esgaroth upon the Long Lake for me. Tomorrow might find me under the Lonely Mountain, or perhaps -- as night falls -- back in the Shire.

Just don't ask what I've got in my pocketsssess, preciousssss ...

We wonders, yes we does ...

Tea: Mandarin Green with ginger and honey

Music: King Crimson, "Cadence and Cascade"

Time: Night.

I'm sure I'm not the first to wonder things like this, but here goes a set of three random questions to cross my mind lately (and yes, you may wish they'd been run over while crossing):

Why don't we call other countries what they call themselves? Why is it Germany to us and Alemania to the Spaniards -- when it's Deutschland to the people who live there?

(Not that it isn't kind of cool to see Ivory Coast -- okay, Cote d'Ivoire -- in German. It's "Elfentbeinkusten." See, I did learn something new at the World Cup.)

Why are there inverted green crosses spray painted at several locations in Westport? Environmentally conscious devil worshippers? (Free range sacrifices and all that ...)

And why are clowns just so flippin' creepy?

Duh nuh nuh nuh NUH nuh nuh

Tea: Mandarin Orange with eucalyptus honey

Music: Dresden Dolls, "Coin Operated Boy"

Time: Night.

Apologies for the absence. But I'm back.

And it's my birthday. (No, I'm not saying how old I am. Let's just say it's a caliber.)

I have much for which to be grateful and thankful. I have been well fed, well loved, well spoiled.

And nobody sang to me in public. This is a good thing.

I Can Has Laff! (And So Can U!)

Tea: Chocolate Cinnamon

Music: Modern English, "I Melt With You"

Time: Night

Blogspot ate my last post and didn't autosave it.

Meanieheads.

So here's a funny picture. I'm going to bed.

Fair warning, though. There are a lot more funny pictures on that site. So don't go blaming me if you're up until 3 in the morning giggling.

Back to the Scrabble Board (Just Not Yet)

Tea: Vanilla Chai

Music: Dresden Dolls, "Half Jack"

Time: Night.

I have played Scrabble once in the nine and a half years since my father died.

(We used to have epic battles, lasting hours. He'd always hoard the "Q," and I'd stash the "U" tiles. When he died, I buried the "Q" with him -- but, of course, I didn't send a "U" along with it.

The one time I played, since he died, was on a coffeehouse board. We got down to the end of the game: No "Q." I swear I could hear him laughing.

Today, my 15-year-old son pulled a game pack out of storage. Guess what's in there?

Yep -- a Scrabble set. A full one, no tiles missing.

I think it might be about time to play again ... about time to focus on what's possible with the living instead of what was lost to death.

Mystery Living Room Theater 2008

Tea: Pu Erh Poe

Music: The Who, "Eminence Front"

Time: Night

It's time for Monsterfest. My son, my brother-in-law and I are going to watch "The Monster that Challenged the World" (actually, several monsters annoying a small part of the world).

We're going to crack wise, I'm sure. Because it's a baaaaaaaaaaaad movie. And sometimes, those are the most fun.

You don't want a movie that's sort of bad or kind of good. You want one that's either really good, i.e. "American Splendor," or really bad -- like much of my monster movie collection. Because when a movie's really bad, it takes on its own kind of campy hilarity -- one that absolutely begs for parenthetical snarky comments.

And so, I'm off to watch -- and comment. And with all this caffeine in my system, I might manage to get one or two good cracks off. So if you hear giggling ... that's us.

EMAW

Tea: Mandarin Green

Music: "Wabash Cannonball"

Time: Night.

First round of the NCAA basketball tournament (my second-favorite sports spectacle, after the World Cup), and the good guys won.

Some friends of mine are celebrating Kansas State's victory over Southern California with burgers at the Hibachi Hut in Manhattan, which is also an excellent place to test out hot sauces. I'm having leftover fried crawfish. Oh, well. Whatever works.

The funny thing about all of this is that USC's star, O.J. Mayo, passed on going to Kansas State.

How's that working out for you, dude?

The Matter of the Meat

Tea: White Grapefruit

Music: Badfinger, "No Matter What"

Time: Night.

I'm co-writing about steak -- specifically, about how steak gets aged. (Most supermarket cuts, by the way, aren't.)

There's a wealth of information about protein breakdown, bacterial action, flavor concentration and the like. It makes my brain hurt sometimes, and I didn't even gather the bulk of the wealth.

But you know what?

I really want a steak now. Rib eye? T-bone (or its hulking cousin, the Porterhouse?) Top sirloin? (Notice that I'm not considering the filet mignon. It's an appetizer. A steak isn't a steak unless the ounces register in double digits.)

No, tonight I think I'd go for a Kansas City strip. Bone-in. The closer to the bone, you know ...

You What Me?

Tea: Pu Erh Dante with ginger

Music: Rammstein, "Du Hast"

Time: Night.

This one's for you, Rod Smart.

Yeah, yeah, I know ... hard rock has never been about the lyrics. And this song's been out for years. And the list of great German rock bands is about as long as the list of reasons to eat well-done steak. (Okay, so even one entry on the band list makes it longer than the steak list.)

And sure, even if you don't know that in German, "du hast mich" means "you have me" and "du hasst mich" means "you hate me" ... that repeated shout of "NEIN!" should tell you something's going on.

I'll be headed back into the gym soon, once my foot heals up. And yeah, "Du Hast" will be on the workout mix. It's not that I feel that way about anyone ... but as any musicologist could tell you (and my experience deejaying long years ago proved), music hath charms not only to soothe the savage breast, but also to rattle its chain and taunt it.

And anger in any language does wonders for the adrenalin levels ...

Testing ... one, two, three ...

Tea: Pu Erh Dante with vanilla

Music: Bob Walkenhorst, "Jan Vermeer"

Time: Night

Just over six months into my volunteer teaching gig -- working with fourth graders once a week on creative writing -- I'm about to find out what kind of an instructor I really am.

That's right. I'm giving my first real test: on poetic language, haiku, cinquains and limericks.

We reviewed last week, and everyone seemed to do well. But in a way, I may be more nervous than they are about tomorrow's exam. I want them all to succeed on it, but I also don't want to set the bar so low that succeeding isn't a challenge.

So once again, I'm reminded what a balancing act full-time teaching must be. Here's hoping I manage to strike the right balance tomorrow.

Park It

Tea: White Monkey

Music: Classix Nouveaux, "Guilty"

Time: Night.

I went to Crestview Park, not far from my son's high school, after dropping him off for his drama performance tonight. (I'll see the show on Thursday.)

I shot a few pictures, stayed about 20 minutes ... and saw a grand total of one other person. She, for the record, was walking through.

On the way back to the house, I found Robinson Park -- a tiny plot, a block long and so narrow that not only could you hit a ping-pong ball across it, you might be able to throw it across. (At .27 acres, it's the smallest park with grass in Overland Park.) It's still not the smallest park I've ever seen. That designation goes to a tiny park, the name of which I can't remember, in my hometown. It occupies one point of a three-way intersection and would fit on my lot here with room to spare -- and I don't live on a big lot.

It, too, was empty. At just a little before six on a nice late winter day, with at least half an hour of decent light left, two perfectly good parks were utterly empty.

To those who crave solitude, as I often do, that could be a boon. On the other hand, if parks don't get used, cities -- always looking for sources of cash -- could use that as a reason to sell off the land.

I'm not on a crusade or anything. I look lousy in armor. But I'm going to shoot for spending one hour a week in a park -- a different park each week -- so long as the weather permits. I might be reading, might be writing, might be taking pictures. Who knows?

But I'll be there -- and I hope I'm not the only one.

Six Silent Strings

Tea: Mandarin Green with eucalyptus honey

Music: Jeff Healey Band, "Angel Eyes"

Time: Night.

Jeff Healey died yesterday. Cancer. He was 41.

Never met the man ... but man, could he play.

I think it's fitting that he once covered "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." My guess is, there are other guitars crying in his memory tonight.

Pig Out

Tea: Blood Orange (herbal) with honey.

Music: Bill Withers, "Lean on Me"

Time: Night.

The guinea pig went home tonight, after a two-week visit while his owners were in Florida.

No more being squeaked at every time I walk into the living room from the kitchen (which contains the fridge, which contained the baby carrots, which of course were due as tribute to Pig-Pig, or Max, or Peaches, or whatever his name is.)

No more trying to corral a squirming furball, then keep him from darting under the furniture while his bedding's being changed.

And no more "I'll let you rub me under the chin right now, but I'm probably going to dash off to the other side of the cage in five seconds" fickleness.

You know what?

I miss him already.