Name That Pod

Most bloggers I read manage to churn out posts with alarming frequency, so I apologize for not fitting that profile very well.

But what I will have for you shortly will be worth the wait -- The Book of Mormon as seen from the second row; Kelli O'Hara as seen from a different second row; Philip Johnson's Glass House in New Canaan, CT; and dead relatives. I mean really, what more could one ask of a blog?

Until I am able to sort through 9000 vacation photographs, I will leave you with these while we go play HGTV in St. Louis:

I know, right?

These babies are supposed to burst shortly and cast forth seeds. Or poison zombie foam. Possibly both.

AND, if Mother Nature 2012 is in our corner, we may be able to grow this:

Or not.

I'm thinking not, mainly because we couldn't manage to coax even one tomato from our lone tomato plant this year. And while I hear the tomato crop was particularly pathetic for everyone, we are undone by our lack of results. Nothing beats a fresh tomato. Not even zombie foam.

So, while we are painting, spackling and muttering,"What Would Vern Yip Do?" all week, let me know if you know the name of this flowering vine. And what you think our chances are of replicating it.

And just a little taste of the really fun stuff to tide you over:



Conflicted

On our daily walks with Bandit, we pass by this tree. And every year, we exclaim over its split autumnal personality. (And then we usually say, "Didn't it do this last year?" "I don't know. Did it?" "Maybe.")

My dread of fall is no secret. And I wonder if other organic things, like this tree, experience foreboding.

"Psst. Right half. Get with the program."
"No way! It's still summer."
"Listen, you're messing up the color scheme, and I hate that."
"For months we've been verdant and pretty, and now, you're going all scarlet and dead."
"The change is inexorable. It cannot be ignored."
"I hate that I can't stay green."
"In a few weeks, we'll be completely unleafed, so deal with it....And stop crying."
"If we could stay like this until Christmas, at least people would admire our beauty a little longer."

"Hold on to me, kid. We'll not only look great, we'll be great."
"I still like green better."
"I know."

Pinned

I am easily led astray by the Internet. It is unbelievable the width and breadth of porn out there, and who doesn't love a good graphic image?

My latest fascination is for pinterest.com, a website where, if you are invited, you may "pin" images from the web and make a virtual bulletin board. Think scrapbook and you've got the idea.

It can look a little like this:

Images from dazzling interiors, art, gifts, quotes, jewelry, food, drink -- if you can find an image on the Internet, you can create a limitless collage, as long as it isn't porn (in the purest sense of the word). Some people have created in excess of 10 boards across all those categories. (And will Virtual Hoarding be the next hit on A&E?)

I was fascinated by this idea board idea and requested an invite, which was granted in short order. There are two ways to sign up -- via facebook or Twitter. I don't tweet, but I do have a facebook page, so I was busily signing up when the ole "by clicking here, you give Facebook permission to access your personal information blahdy blah blah" popped up.

Because I don't want to give Facebook permission to do anything except what I want it to do, I wrote to pinterest.com and said, "Hey! I want to pin stuff, but not with Facebook 's schnoz peering into my underwear drawer."

Enid wrote me back:

We do this to make it easier to find people you already know on Pinterest. Activity on Pinterest is never posted automatically: only pins/repins can be shared and you will control when you want to do so, if at all.

Frankly, I have no idea what that means.

She did recommend using Twitter to register because the process is "very lightweight," but I don't want to do that either.

Too bad, because I need more excuses to circumvent laundry and dinner-making.

It then occurred to me: is anyone thinking about copyright here? The site says if you link the image back to its original site, that is good pin "etiquette." From what I read, however, the artists and other image-makers out there are not crazy about this pinning craze. Fair use, copyright infringement, and other proprietary issues are firing up all over the place.

I think I'll let everyone sort it out and see what happens.

I'd love to hear what you think. Would you want someone to pin a picture of your granddaughter or dog or mountain cabin on their board? Have they already?

Table 7

I'm posting this marvelous little movie by Marko Slavnic about a couple having an intimate conversation in a restaurant, unaware that their every word is being closely monitored.

Marko was kind enough to respond very quickly with his permission to "post away" on Naperville Now.

His website is at http://markoslavnic.com/. 

The movie is a smidge over 4 minutes.

I loved Table 7. You will love it, too.

Sweet Autumn

 

Actually, Sweet Autumn is the name of this bodacious clematis growing up my friend's mailbox.

I find very little that is sweet about autumn. It's just a showy prelude to death winter, which lasts anywhere from 5 to 6 months in Chicago. Which means it's time to get out the anti-depressants, lightboxes, and cases of wine, just a few of the components of this Chicagoan's winter survival kit.

I don't remember exactly when I became anti-autumn. Used to be, fall meant Mizzou football games, keggers and boys, crisp new clothes, Bic pens, and academic beginnings.

Now it's too much chocolate consumed in a fetal position while wearing a Snuggie. (Actually, this is a metaphorical Snuggie.)

Last year, I survived winter because I knew we were leaving for Savannah, GA, in February. It's what got me through January's hellacious snowstorms. 

Dogs and children, know that your very lives were saved by this trip south to sunshine and water.

The very best part is, we may probably/pretty much/dear Lord let it be so get to do it again this February.

I can live with that, right?

With the Rest of the World

We remember.

Flung

The heat of Labor Day weekend was so intense, I think my brain melted. (Naperville Now is very sensitive in that way.)

In fact, I still feel a little shaky, so I'll have our little buddy do most of the talking about our time at Naperville's Last Fling.

 Impossible not to be drawn to the lethal flying weapon game.

See the handcrafted sign on the left? It details the logic of  "With another 10 bucks, lady, you can upgrade the prize."

  Every boy needs a $400 whale.

  Now, this game makes sense to me.

 I believe our $5 monkey may have met a quick end once Howie, 

the miniature black Lab, saw it surrender.

Cars, trains, trucks. All boy all the time.

And another generation enjoys the Dandelion Fountain on the Riverwalk. 

It took great restraint on my part to not jump in. 

(And I would have not been the first in the family to do so, 

though there is some controversy surrounding the details of that plunge.)

 As it was, we made our own cool.

And so the sun slowly set on little buddy's first Fling.

And my 24th.