September 19, 2003

Bluing the Hard Business of Domestic Urgency
Life is a pastel wash of moving boxes, paint chips, freeze pops, and rug doctors. Last night I ate sushi on white plastic patio furniture that I had set up in the living room for a fine dining experience. Today I'm going to start painting what will eventually turn into a home office. I've chosen the color 'wooden spoon' after two long nights of staring at way too many paint chips. I've discovered that the new pad is just blocks away from an amazing Ace Hardware store. They got it all. Todays' purchases will include masks, full body painters overalls, a painters hat, knee pads, and a bottle of turpentine that I'll take occasional "Love Liza' huffs from. Later after the turpentine goes to my head I'll have the Twins game going on the 6 inch portable AM radio I found in the garage.

These two images are just a sampling of the old products and lost treasures that I have discovered around the house. I had never heard of Mrs Stewart's Liquid Bluing, I guess it's used as a laundry whitener. Which begs the question, how does 'bluing' make things white and not blue?

Stay tuned for images of some of the most hideous looking wallpaper you have ever seen. . . it's enough to make you huff turpentine.

September 18, 2003

Pirate Talk
Tomorrow is the big day. Talk Like A Pirate Day - Sept. 19. Learn great pirate pick-up lines like, "How'd you like to scrape the barnacles off of me rudder?", and other fun pirate sayings.

Paige Davis Versus the Barcalounger
What I thought was just a serious case of pennant fever, turned into a debilitating and sense depriving head cold yesterday. But the Twins won again last night so I feel much better. I started the day by giving the immune system a serious pep talk. I'm expecting nothing short of a stellar rebound of my health, but just in case I've got the kleenex box riding shotgun.

Yesterday I started moving boxes twenty blocks south to the new abode. All I can say is. . . screened in porch - where have you been all my life? The screened in porch is fast becoming my new favorite reason for putting in a wireless hub ASAP. The former dwellers of the house left this hideous looking Slumberland-special recliner, which I was anxious to get rid of the first chance I got. Then I sat in it. Then I reclined in it. Then I took a mid-day delirious sickness nap in it. Falling asleep to the gentle sound of the pear tree's creaking branches, I dreamt that Paige Davis was throwing a fit because I had decided to go with a caribbean pirate theme when decorating the screened in porch. I saw a giant stuffed blue marlin hanging confidently from the wood paneling.

But back to the Slumberland Special. It stays. Oh. Yes. Baby. It stays. Ikea and modern design got nothin' on a phat overstuffed barcalounger.

Today I'll be bringing more stuff over and beginning to empty out the storage locker. Lurking in the basement and the garage, i've already run across three or four ancient products with some incredible package design and typography choices. I'll snap some pictures and see if I can't get around to posting them some time later today. No promises tho, I might get caught in the tractor beam of the Barcalounger again and then all bets are off.

September 16, 2003

Three is the Magic Number
As if I needed one more thing to stress about this month, the Twins took over sole possession of first place last night, delivering a dominating boot to the head to all of Cleveland's Cavalry. Now I'm clutching onto the safety bar of a pennant race roller-coaster that I don't have the time for, let alone the stomach. But this is how the game works and usually it works pretty good.

I've been taking a few lessons from baseball lately. Important, deep, plain-clothed lessons about success, failure and expectation. I'm sure I'm not the first to write about this old tired metaphor but I'll add my squawk to the pile just to smell it later.

In these last do-or-die days of the 2003 AL Central pennant race, when the summer daylight hours are shorter and the idea of a ball game being on is as reliable as the sun rising, the notion that 'tomorrow is another day' speaks volumes in its truth and unshakable hopefulness. On any given day, the only predictable outcome you can bet on is that no matter what the score of todays game may be, tomorrow does indeed offer another shot at redemption. Everyday is an opportunity for loss just as much as it is for a win. Sure you may have your streaks. You make take 20 in a row, like last years Oakland A's, but when the odds shake out, you got to be happy if you're riding anywhere over five hundred.

Shannon Stewart is at the top of his game coming into these last days of summer. Yet, being on top of his game means he's batting .312. That means for every ten attempts he gets a whopping three hits. Ten attempts. Three are good. And Stewart is probably very happy with that. The Twins management, I know are happy with this.

Now here is the thing that gets me. Stewart is a professional. He's one of the very best, an elite in the world at hitting baseballs. But still, even in his best hours he can only get a hit three out of ten times. So, I'm trying to get happy with that stat and I think you should too. If you make ten meals and three are good? You're the best. Make four good ones and you're an all-star. Make ten decisions at work and three are good and the other seven are strike outs? You should be promoted immediately. Make ten movies and seven bomb while three bring you rave reviews and untold riches? Then you're on the cover of Vanity Fair. George Clooney is hip to this wisdom. He knows the game and appreciates how the law of averages will sometimes throw him a meat ball pitch that he can hit out of the park (Oh, Brother Where Art Thou, Three Kings), but he also appreciates that sometimes you just go down swinging (Batman, Solaris), and sometimes you find dumb luck and reach on an error (Confessions of a Dangerous Mind). Speaking of 'Dangerous Mind', did you watch the screen tests for Sam Rockwell on the DVD, when he's doing a dancing Chuck Barris? That guy's a white James Brown. I'm putting all my money on him to bat .500 next season. That man has the skills to pay the bills. But there I go again, raising my expectations of Sam Rockwell based solely on his performance in 'Dangerous'. Sure I'd like him to make ten groundbreaking performances but I should be happy with the three that are sure to come if he continues to play the game.

So, yes, like Stewart, Clooney and De La, remember, 'Three is the Magic Number'. Don't sweat the strikeouts, just show up to the game.