My Trip

I don't know what's gotten into me. It is still so hard to share my musings and type them out with my furry paws as I am simply exhausted - a case of the vapors or some such thing. However, a delightful thunderstorm this weekend seemed to refresh everyone's spirits.

So now I can finally go over our trip to Springfield, IL a few weeks ago. Everyone knows Illinois as the land of Lincoln, as Lincoln spent the majority of his adult years here - specifically in Springfield. And, Springfield is the capital of Illinois, which as you may know is a very political state. (The largely Blue Cook County, which includes Chicago and the outlying areas, dominates the rest of the state which is more conservative.)

Everywhere you go there's Lincoln. You go to a bank - there's a bank register with his recordkeeping. Go to a church, they have his family pew roped off. You start to expect to see one of his turds under glass when you go to the bathroom!

The city has built a multi-million dollar museum in the heart of the small downtown, and refurbished the old train station across the street, where my roommate took this dramatic picture.



I love this sculpture for its sense of movement. It's a beautiful depiction of Lincoln literally pushing against the winds of change - some were bad and he had to resist, others good and he let them breeze by.

The winds of change are certainly helping Springfield, which was more about the big-box stores on the outskirts of town than the distinctive and charming buildings in the heart of the city. Now, with the museum a daily attraction for people all over the state - and country - that's changed quite a bit. Which is good to see. I'm against urban sprawl - aren't you?

August = Bad?

It's been a very long week, nay, weeks, my dears. My roommates, to whom I owe my roof over my head and endless supplies of carrots and fresh greens, have been through multiple occurences of car and dental trouble. A very curious and unwelcome mix.

I've heard August is a really wretched month. Certainly, the 100+ degree temps in the west valley lent a Hades -esque air to the late summer, and it seemed odd things were happening to everyone.

But with September, comes wonderful new things. Like, say, "Bionic Woman" redux, and the season premieres of "The Office" and "30 Rock."

In movies, not much going on at the moment, though I finally saw Stardust against what I thought was my better judgement and, in fact, liked it. It was a truly delightful movie. I just thought the powers that be would trash Neil Gaiman's work and that Claire Danes would be her usual simpering, blank-eyed self, but she really redeemed herself, and the movie was full of passion, wit, and wonderful characters. It was a nice suprise after a month of madness.

Little Miss Dead Eyes

I vowed to watch the VMA's live but alas, after arriving late from a trip to central Illinois (more on that later) I missed the window.

Naturally I immediately hopped on the internet to see one of the many videos of Britney Spears sleep walking through her performance.

The public has finally had it with these young ladies who are now nothing more than poor little rich girls with no taste, talent, or the wherewithal to display any of the former. Britney's performance was the ultimate display of this, and it is quite sickening to think this is the future of American pop culture. There are plenty of brilliant young artists out there, but unfortunately it's these self-centered lost souls that get all the attention.

Oh - la - la Rue

Many of my friends know that one of my favorite books is Loni Anderson's autobiography, "My Life in High Heels." It is a highly readable dish about her life in the stage, as a single mother, and as a luscious blond superstar. The last 4 or 5 chapters, when she finds out about Burt Reynold's cheatin' heart, are engrossing and oft read by this rabbit. (When she realizes "BR"'s theatre troop had to entertain both Loni and Burt's lover on alternate weeks...the deliciously terrible brazenness of it all!!)

I now have the perfect companion to Loni's book. It's called "My First Five Husbands," Rue McLanahan's autobiography. It is engaging, jubilant, and in full recognition of the ridiculousness of the writer's poor judgement in men. Many juicy bits about her work on stage and screen are also there, without getting too gossipy. (Naturally, my favorite bits were about life as a Golden Girl - that superior show of all sitcoms.)



Like Ms. Anderson, "Eddi - Rue" was a slave to the craft, a talent honed on stage. Again, like Loni, she was also a sultry blond who had a child very young and raised the child almost completely on her own - whilst pursuing the starving artist life, something I cannot imagine.

All told, perfect beach reading for this weekend and now passed on to my roommates. Hours of fun, my pets - there's no better way to pass a hot lazy afternoon than in the company of two fantastic blonds!