After hours of sifting through jpeg files, sending them from one computer to another, editing, and re-editing, I am at last posting pictures of the Jaunty Mid-August Trip to Bloomington, Indiana.

My mother and her boyfriend J., our gracious hostess and host, strolling the Indiana University campus:

While on campus, we saw [...]]]>

After hours of sifting through jpeg files, sending them from one computer to another, editing, and re-editing, I am at last posting pictures of the Jaunty Mid-August Trip to Bloomington, Indiana.

My mother and her boyfriend J., our gracious hostess and host, strolling the Indiana University campus:

While on campus, we saw a fascinating exhibit at the Lilly Library called Of Cabbages and Kings: Unexpected Treasures of the Lilly Library. The red banner shows Rita Hayworth’s train case, filled with monogrammed makeup cases and illustrated love notes from her then-husband, Orson Welles. (Notice that Wikipedia’s photo was taken during this same exhibit. Ha!)

Seeing the train case alone would have made my day, but there were more “unexpected treasures” ahead. We saw things like a Gutenberg New Testament, a lock of George Washington’s hair,  personal letters from Ernest Hemingway (with a cartoon of  himself, bandaged and demanding a drink), a Haydn manuscript with handwritten edits, Audubon’s Birds of America (which must be three feet tall), and John Ford’s Oscar statuette for How Green Was My Valley:

The Wikipedia entry says “The library now contains approximately 400,000 rare books, 6.5 million manuscripts, and 100,000 pieces of sheet music”, but that was back in 2007 and they’ve been accumulating more priceless artifacts since then. Can you imagine what their catalog must look like? Furthermore, that count only mentions paper goods; what about Oscars, train cases, furniture and who knows what else?

A Mexican book of Gregorian chant, found in Guatemala. Those li’l square noteheads are so cute:

It’s hard to photograph things in glass cases.

Me, admiring a desk from Abraham Lincoln’s law office. I was amazed by its excellent condition and extreme shortness. My knees might fit under there; Lincoln’s didn’t stand a chance.

Such gorgeous wallpaper, if paper is the correct term. Does “wall damask” exist?

Outside the Lilly Library is the Showalter Fountain, previously seen in my pictures from Aardvark Day 2004— remind me to tell you about Aardvark Day sometime. J., our host, had said that one of the fish sculptures from the fountain had been stolen and would cost $10,000 to replace. I hate thieves.

I wanted to see where the stolen fish had been, so I looked into the fountain…

… and saw two floating bouquets! No clue how they got there, but finding hidden flowers tickled me pink.

Mom, Mr. Jaunty, and J. were all well behind me, so I shouted to them and lifted a bouquet to show what I’d found— and learned that the mysterious flowers were arranged in bowls:

Like so! They were heavy— you can see I had to extend my right arm for balance.

After lunch at Siam House (which is lovely and very vegetarian/vegan friendly), we wandered back across campus by way of Beck Chapel:

Many (most? All?) of IU’s buildings are limestone, which I adore.

Inside the chapel:

Slightly bossy, but still sweet:

An old boyfriend pf mine (let’s call him “Shortcake”) always wanted a keyboard with black keys:

Bitsy cemetery! One wonders whose bodies merited burial here.

All photos appear courtesy of Mr. Jaunty. We spent three happy days visiting Bloomington; we watched a movie in the park, attended the farmers’ market, ate at Runcible Spoon and Siam House, went shopping on Kirkwood Avenue, stayed in J.’s farmhouse… all those photo opportunities, yet I only remembered to take three pictures, grand total. Three pictures…

…of chickens.

Go figure.

Seen any good campuses lately?

Since my family’s had roughly 26 guinea pigs, it spoke to me.

But if you prefer your fables 1) light on ethnic slurs, 2) heavy on old [...]]]> Years ago, I read Ellis Parker Butler’s Pigs is Pigs, a famous short story from 1905 illustrating the pitfalls of bureaucracy and the alarming fecundity of guinea pigs.

Since my family’s had roughly 26 guinea pigs, it spoke to me.

But if you prefer your fables 1) light on ethnic slurs, 2) heavy on old Irish stereotypes, and 3) set to music, check out the 1954 Disney cartoon:

Notice the booty-poppin’ at 4:32. Mr. Flannery was ahead of his time!

Today, I deleted 81 spam messages from my e-mail account. 77 of these messages offered me “male enhancement drugs.”

Either every spammer everywhere thinks I’m an impotent man (named Rebekah), or the entire internet thinks I’m such a turn-off that I should scatter Viagra everywhere, like a homecoming queen on a [...]]]>

Today, I deleted 81 spam messages from my e-mail account. 77 of these messages offered me “male enhancement drugs.”

Either every spammer everywhere thinks I’m an impotent man (named Rebekah), or the entire internet thinks I’m such a turn-off that I should scatter Viagra everywhere, like a homecoming queen on a pharmaceutical parade float.

Spammers, you insult me.

Leave your witty remarks in the comments below. Ready, set, GO!

Last year, in a fit of nostalgia, my little sister discovered Old Time Radio’s The Great Gildersleeve archives. Being [...]]]> When I was little, my family’s Chevy Citation had a cassette player. On long drives, we’d listen to Mason Williams’ Classical Gas album, or perhaps a tape of the 1940′s radio classic The Great Gildersleeve.

Last year, in a fit of nostalgia, my little sister discovered Old Time Radio’s The Great Gildersleeve archives. Being slightly obsessive, I set out to listen to every episode. Otr.net lists 468 episodes, each 30 minutes long.

And so I began listening to Throckmorton Philharmonic Gildersleeve and co. while cleaning the apartment, baking, or filing my nails. Radio: the multitasker’s friend.

It’s a great show, well-written and sometimes surprisingly relevant…. but not worth 234 hours of lifetime when all I wanted was to hear that one episode. Now, what was it called? You remember, the one with “Why Do I Love You?” and doughnuts?

After a few misses guesses, I tracked down Episode 42, A Quiet Evening at Home. Siblings, you may want to check it out.

If you have boxes to unpack, a floor to mop, or a tub to scrub, visit Old Time Radio and multitask to your heart’s content.

In the late 90′s, my mother, little sister and I lived in a li’l southern Indiana town with two traffic lights. We couldn’t always pay the bills, so occasionally various utilities would be shut off. Sometimes we had [...]]]> Today, Sal‘s link to the Jezebel’s catalog fantasies post took me back to my not-so-distant youth.

In the late 90′s, my mother, little sister and I lived in a li’l southern Indiana town with two traffic lights. We couldn’t always pay the bills, so occasionally various utilities would be shut off. Sometimes we had a car, sometimes not. My best friends lived at least an hour away, and I felt cut off from the world.

Since we didn’t have the internet at home— our computer was so useless, we called it “The Solitaire Machine,” — I relied on catalogs (you remember, the paper kind) to feed my daydreams.

Luckily, my family got LOTS of catalogs: Delia’s, Williams-Sonoma, J. Peterman, Alloy, Land’s End, the Vermont Country Store, Sundance, Signals,  JC Penney, the now-defunct Zoe, Smithsonian, L.L. Bean, Pyramid Collection, Things You Never Knew Existed, Musician’s Friend, Wireless… sometimes we even got Hamakor Judiaca: The Source for Everything Jewish. We are not Jewish.

In reality, I was a frumpy, frizzy-haired, depressed teenager who dropped out of school after 5th grade and wore men’s clothes. I chose to live mostly in my head, where I was the kind of edgy chick who’d wear the barbed wire chokers shown in Delia’s, the then-trendy bootleg corduroys from Zoe, maybe that $30 silver hair clip from Sundance. I’d throw slumber parties in my perfectly-coordinated bedroom, lounging carelessly in a hand-shaped chair.

Soulful-looking boys would long for my touch. Popular girls, though intimidated by my breezy charm and wholesome good looks, would want to be my friend.

Mind you, I cared about more than clothes and decor—I also needed the Williams-Sonoma toaster (available in an array of Easter-y pastels!) complete with two bagel slots and a THIRD slot for a sandwich-toasting rack. Clearly worth $115. I wanted old-fashioned candies from Vermont, and practically everything from Musician’s Friend. Hell, I even wanted pretty yarmulkes. If I had nice things, maybe I’d have beauty and success to go with them.

I’d have loved to live in a catalog.

A lot has changed since my teen years; I no longer subscribe to any catalogs, and that same Sundance hair clip now sells for $90. But sometimes I still expect beautiful clothing/jewelry/instruments/kitchen appliances to transform me into someone new, someone with an air of mystery and fewer stretch marks.

No luck so far.

Have you ever had a catalog-fueled fantasy?

Mr. Jaunty and I will be house-sitting for a few weeks. The home in question has a piano, accordion, three cats, treehouse, garden, fruit trees, badminton net, basketball hoop, a Wii, great Lego collection, movies ranging from Gilbert and Sullivan to Eddie Izzard, and maybe a thousand books. A neighbor has offered [...]]]> Miss me?

Mr. Jaunty and I will be house-sitting for a few weeks. The home in question has a piano, accordion, three cats, treehouse, garden, fruit trees, badminton net, basketball hoop, a Wii, great Lego collection, movies ranging from Gilbert and Sullivan to Eddie Izzard, and maybe a thousand books. A neighbor has offered to share his pool.

THAT’s why I missed the last two days of Summer Black-Out 2010: blissful distraction. If you could use some distraction yourself, start with a classic:

The blog may be quiet, but don’t worry — my daily outfits are less noteworthy than ever before. Personal hygiene can’t compete with all these luscious distractions. Let’s skip photos, shall we?

Well, mere acquaintances, I’m not getting married until gay marriage, polygamy, and time travel all become legal. When that scintillating day arrives, you may dance at [...]]]> Last week, two separate acquaintances grilled me about my marital status: “I can’t believe you’re not married! You are getting married, right? When are you getting married?”

Well, mere acquaintances, I’m not getting married until gay marriage, polygamy, and time travel all become legal. When that scintillating day arrives, you may dance at my wedding. Meet the brides:

Sarah Haskins

Martha Beck

                              Anna Russell (death is no match for true love!)

Sarah, Martha, Anna, Mr. Jaunty and I will live in a seaside cottage. We will take a brisk swim in the saltwater every morning and rest by the fire at night. We will play Scrabble every Sunday, and I will always lose. My handerchiefs will be monogrammed R.R.W.H.B.R.; A little clunky, yes, but marriage entails compromise.

No presents, please.

Casting aside sexual orientation, death, and reality— who would YOU like to marry?

Where was this guy when I was 15? [...]]]> Mr. Jaunty and I have been watching these clips every day:

Where was this guy when I was 15?

Currently, I’m tipping the scales at 2000 human eyeballs or 12626.26262626 sheets of paper or 333.3333333333 hockey pucks.

But hey, that means I only weigh 0.1133980936238…. well…

um…

…right whale testicles. Thank you, weirdconverter.com, for putting things in perspective. [...]]]> I would like to weigh 289672.5440806 square inches of air (at sea level).

Currently, I’m tipping the scales at 2000 human eyeballs or 12626.26262626 sheets of paper or 333.3333333333 hockey pucks.

But hey, that means I only weigh 0.1133980936238…. well…

um…

…right whale testicles.



Thank you, weirdconverter.com, for putting things in perspective.