January 02, 2008


I was reading David Mamet's Writing in Resturants last night and came across these bits in the beginning of the short essay "On Paul Ickovic's Photographs" which seemed right for sharing in these baby days of our newest year:

"I would like to live a life free of constant self-examination--a life which may be ruled by the processes of guilt, remorse, hope and anxiety, but one in which thoses processes themselves are not foremost in the mind.
I would like like to belong to a world dedicated to creating, preserving, achieving or simply getting by. But the world of the outsider, in which I have chosen to live, and in which I have trained myself to live, is based on none of those thing. It is based on observation."

Baraboo Wisconsin Stop N' Shop five hours into a blizzardy drive, two aisles of dried meats, we stocked up on food, in case we wound up all nighting on the drifts in the median.

I tried to make my mom look in my eyes and tell me she loves me and Lauren as much as her mini-ewok dogs, but she couldn't. I don't blame her.

Back in 1980, our family was just me and my mom. She was an editor at a newspaper and 26 years old, we lived next door to a hospital in Michigan.

My mom circa 1983 at a journalism conference.

Before she was my mom, she was a state and national champ, a horserider of all styles.

Now she keeps her horse in a decorative aritfical nest-in-a-bowl on the island. Matt gave her that pony in her stocking.

My mom says one of the big plusses of being single is decorating your apartment however you want. It's true and she has.

I took Matt to the Walker, and we spent all day looking around. The Frida Kahlo exhibit was filled with people who don;t know how to visit a museum, tapping on the glass of the picture frames like it's a fucking aquarium, shouting to one another with their walkman-guide headphones on. We peaced out after about 12 minutes.

Upstairs, Matt and the animated computer dolphin that you can ask questions of got into it. The dolphin teased Matt.

We watched a movie of women working at a dry cleaner in the Ukraine. In one of the movies, after the woman works, she goes home and cooks dinner for her teenager daughter and the daughter complains about it. It was intense. Teenagers are by nature ungrateful.

We had an epic Scrabble game. I won. I took 200 pictures during the game because everyone takes 12 minutes for their turns.

We went to the Russian museum with Dan and Craig, and my mom tried on some traditional head dress in the gift shop.

After we had lunch at this antlery place and I thought about maybe I was running my mouth too much during lunch but realized that these two dudes have known me since high school, and they know how I am by this point--a mouth runner by nature.

We had to go to Southdale Mall five times during the visit. The final time, I died of boredom waiting for Matt to decide on his new winter coat. Now we are matchy-matchy.

Brown and yellow matchy matchy coats with toggle buttons.

Guess who else was hanging at the mall?
Menswear was bumpin' for a Thursday.

I had to take Matt to the Sculpture Garden, so if anyone ever asks him if he has seen the cherry in the spoon, he can say yes. It was 11 pm and the nightsky was as white as the ground. We ran through the whole thing to keep warm, stopping briefly to check out the Calder whipping in the wind. Calder sculptures always make me feel like I am a tiny tiny person on some executives desk.

More importantly, if you kick snow at the ewok dogs they jump in the air and try and catch it. This picture is mere seconds after a mid-air collision.

Catch it an' eat it, they do.

My sister, now of Manhattan.

A personal note from Burger King itself. It reads more as a poem than a note to me, though.

A truck jack knifed outside of Osseo and we sat for two hours. I got these mittens for xmas from my step mom. They are nuclear.

A few hours later, at the truck stop, I ran up the 15 foot tall snowdrifts for exercise.

The sort of dinner on offer in Janesville, WI.
Imagine being the person who dreamt up Grillquitos.

Posted by Jessica at January 2, 2008 03:47 PM | TrackBack