Scooters: the Newest in Animal Transport, Plus BookEndless Kitchens

I did a thing. I did a new thing! Well, not BRAND brand new, it's a two color linocut. But for my first time in all these years using some nice sharp Pfeil gouges instead of my usual throw-away student things. After ALL THESE YEARS, you ask yourself, If I was going to continue with this endeavor, WHY would I deem proper tools an extravagance?

As well, last week marked the first week of using my mini hairdryer to soften up the linoleum blocks, even though this wee hairdryer has been stored in my work space, for just such a purpose, because god knows I don't use it on my head. Why does it take so much time to shift from the idly contemplative, "Mmm, yeah, that seems like a good idea"/ "Hmm, that beats what *I'm* doing~~" to a positive follow-through? I must first overcome my own crotchetyness before paring away the crotchety aspects of my process or surroundings. So: Bahhh! And wheeee! The lino -- supple;  the tools -- sleekly sharp. I had hesitated over the return, after decades, to palm-held tools, but once I picked them up, they felt natural. A calming, more controlled experience. Hopefully they will show through in my work -- but the process alone is an improvement! Nice to hole up in a warm corner of my basement while Winter rages on up above. I also spent some time since January going through the basement and my work area, getting rid of and finding places for the various just-in-case possessions. My work area feels more ready to work these days.

 

So, here we have the latest, on mulberry paper:

Visit Etsy listing here and check out my Instagram here for the second variation (bright pink, currently drying in the basement).

On the homefront, we have emerged from high fevered nastiness for the little one, capped off at the end with a plummeting geode bookend that landed on our daughter's big left toe. Justified wailing + pool of blood = hours in Urgent Care Random. We eventually had very good care*, and, but for some pitiful hobbling, she soldiered through. 

Per usual,  interactions with the resident preschooler range from the ghastly to perplexing, to goofy-cute. From this morning:

Me, startled by a suspicious pool: Why is the floor by your bed all wet?
PS, matter of factly: Oh, I was spitting there.

Me, failing to run my fingers through her hair: Why is your hair all crunchy?
PS: Oh I had a lollipop in the car last night
Me: Oh, you *know* you're not supposed to touch your hair with lollipop hands!
PS, indignant: I *DIDN'T*! ... (more as an aside) But then I forgot and I touched the lollipop to my hair.

Breakfast Humor
Q: Why did the pantry cross the road?
A: Because it has a handle!

Eating her avocado toast

Q: Why did the piece of avocado cross the road?
A: Because it was green!

From a couple days ago. She is at a work table in the basement, seriously inking a couple small lino blocks. I am reorganizing the space. I turn up the radio, sing along. She gazes up at me for a moment.

PS: NO dancing. [I shimmy and purse my lips at her]. NO DANCING. [she pauses, and mutters to her paper] ...This is not a wedding, NO ONE is getting married. 


*barring the ONLY nurse I have ever actively disliked. She batted an impressive pair of fake eyelashes at my slumped daughter and proceeded to coo over her, repeatedly likening her to a a little baby doll in a toy box, she was THAT PRECIOUS, NO SERIOUSLY, THAT PRECIOUS, and finally addressing the patient directly:"So, darling, who are your THREE FAVORITE PRINCESSES???" Celie kind of stared at her. She has discovered Frozen, and is as smitten as most -- Rick and I are inevitably on call as Elsa- or Ana- stand-ins -- but this question caught her up short. She seemed confused an adult would be posing it to her. The nurse pushed on to some other rote obnoxiousness, without ever addressing her about the reason for the visit, etc. She took the blood pressure gadget from the wall and I noted she could actually talk to my daughter about that. She asked sweetly whether Celie wanted to be a doctor and she exclaimed yes! Without missing a beat, Gender Stereotype upped her Weirdo game:"Oh GOOOOD, you'll make LOTS OF MONEY! You could buy your Mommy a NEW CAR, VROOOM VROOOM, YEAH wouldn't THAT be FUN and your MOMMY would LOVE THAT!" Celie remained uncharacteristically silent. She could tell something was different here, but didn't know what to do with it; I was just waiting for her to leave. Which she did, thankfully, soon after that. WTF.

Chicago and the Closest I Get to Reading About Pythagoras...

Let's return to last Sunday, spent in the Wicker Park/Belmont Area of Chicago. It was a sunny, blousy day, perfect to wander in and out of establishments, while away the hours in book stores. The weird and appealing Quimby's Books, while only a few blocks from the Bongo Room on North Milwaukee, nevertheless gave opportunity to gawk at painted wrought iron fences, listen as The Cure's Fascination Street wafted from the open windows of a sleek, pointy townhouse that was all brushed metal, floor-to-ceiling window panes and neat second floor balcony spaces; and spot the cultural and political icons painted onto the neighboring wall.

 

More photos? More here.

 

Quimby's is the most independent of independents, with significant space granted to zines, alternative/underground publications, graphic novels and fetish materials; and while I appreciate it, I didn't go in expecting to buy very much myself.

But then I opened the cover of this oversize, lavishly illustrated graphic novel and fell into the middle of a conversation between a caged tiger and a monkey. The monkey was a bit secretive and bashful; and was reading a book; the tiger continued to reach out to him. The monkey said he felt a little anxious; his slumped posture conveyed despondency. "How long have you been here?" inquired the tiger. "Have they given you a name yet?"

"They just call me monkey."

"What's your name?"

"Euclid."

 So, clearly I had to buy that. Euclid! His name was Euclid! Incidently, he was reading a book on Pythagorean theory. I'm sooooo glad for this purchase. There's a bombing by a terrorist faction of animal rights activists (who are themselves, animals). While people still have pets, and they are loved-but-lesser, the animals also talk. It's a sprawling work, is supposed to be one of nine; sometimes too heavy-handed, but nevertheless, fascinating and mysterious.

Check out The New York Time's take on the first graphic novel by one Adam Hines, here.

Or cut to the chase and read it here for free (lucky, lucky you), but I'd also say it's a lovely addition to one's bookcase.

Looking at the walls is also a good idea at Quimby's-- there was a Jay Ryan poster (nfs), which made me wish they had other Jay Ryan designs available there. Years ago, I had picked up a fantastic fake travel poster by Alana Bailey, as part of the now defunct Lady Dissident Chicago Travel Auxiliary series (at right). This time around, I was tempted by the alarming "Springtime in Pilsen," which was also sadly not for sale (but you may view it here).  Apparently she does her lettering using something called rubylith, which I am still a little unclear on.

Nice Chicagoist interview from 2009.

The other artist whose work I was quite happy to revisit: Nikki McClure. I bought a few notecards of her designs from Quimby's maybe 5 or 6 years ago (same trip as Thurber on the Couch) and they promptly took up residence on my fridge.

McClure Cards in upper left. Also, Mincing Mockingbird magnet and Karin Wagner Coron pastel landscape in middle

There was a fine array on the spinner, with more detailed linework, but the same sense focus on domesticity, food and food sources. Usually black and white, plus one other color: clean, with a nice, solid contrast with the areas of busier linework. All of the designs result from intricate paper cutting of a single layer. Whew! When the clerk showed me a children's book and a short recipe book with her illustrations, it fit together perfectly.  Her work is nourishing and quiet.

As you look at this composition of ravens in a tree: remind yourself -- cut from one sheet of paper. I snagged this one! Sadly, the darker Witness was not there.

The day didn't end on that note. We lugged our sacks back onto the L, siesta-ed, and emerged again for a late Sunday evening meal. But by that point, we were pretty tuckered out and already focused on the original reason for the trip: Monday morning's visit to the Chinese consulate. In theory this is all in order now -- I was told they'd send the visa in the mail this past Friday. So maybe I'll have it in my hot little hand, come Monday. Hard to believe it's all coming together, but in less than two weeks I'll be in the air for 14 and a half hours. And then there will be dizzying (and also deadlocked) traffic, dazzling lights, no clothes dryers, office spaces like the ones I already know and all manner of unexpected things. Unicorns. Or at least noodle shops and dim sum and older generations wearing pajamas on the street. Somehow the prospect of daytime pajama wearing is highly pleasing to me. Oh guidebook, I hope what you say is true.

Coffee Klatch

A couple weeks ago, I was outside, enjoying my deck, with a book and some dinner. In years past I spent many warmer mornings and evenings on it, but somehow I had fallen out of this habit. Barring the appalling state of my backyard, it was relaxing and lovely, with birdcalls and kidcalls from around the block. I had already laid out on park grass earlier in the day, propped over the same book, so I was nicely blissed out and lazy. A loud thump sounded from the underside of my deck, announcing the backyard raccoon, which I had allowed myself to forget about. He popped his head up around one side and we both startled. He shot back underneath and I hastily gathered my things up, reasoning to myself that really, I had been out there long enough. I thumped the table a few times to indicate that just like a few seconds before, I was still there.

The experience was oddly akin to staying over someone's house and walking down the hall just as someone emerges from their shower, dripping and bundled in a towel,

"Oh! I~~"

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean!"

"Oh no, I, really!"

And the bathroom door swiftly shuts again, as you duck into whatever room happens to be nearby.

Enter this morning. I went for an early (sad little belabored) run and decided to drink my first bowl of coffee in the morning gloom. There was, as you're expecting, a thump. And here was the backyard raccoon again. This time I was determined to hold my ground. My deck. My backyard.

He climbed out and we looked at each other.

"Oh," he said.

"Oh," I said. Truth be told, it was a little awkward. I waited.

After a pause, he noted: "Your beneath-deck reception sucks."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What exactly do you have down there?"

"Why don't you climb under and see?"

"Haha. I bet you'd really like it if I tore up the deck to find out."

We tried to stare each other down, him from the grass, me from a rickety chair. He gave up, feigned indifference; raised himself on his hind legs and scented the air. Dropped down again.

"Um. So I'm digging a catacombs underneath your basement~~"

"What~~"

"and it's going pretty well. If that's okay with you."


"that will *totally* damage the structural integrity of the foundation!"

"If you haven't noticed anything by now, I'm sure it's fine~"

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

He gazed at me. His expression could only be described as solemn. He slipped back underneath.

"By now??"  I stared morosely at my cooling coffee. Home ownership is problematic: don't let anyone tell you otherwise.