Happy fun parade good time.



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Green.



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Slaving over a hot meal.



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DuMom: What do you call a castrated sheep in an assless camo or flame-print unitard?

Jane: Wait, I've heard this one . . .

Jane: I give up, what?

DuMom: I was kind if hoping you would know

Little did I know that it would be my first of two trips to the Billy Goat within a month.  Dano and I ended up back there last Friday when we were approached by a lost (and wicked hot) Italian tourist named Roberto.  While trying to explain the concept of upper and lower Michigan to him, we decided it was easier to just walk there with him and have a cheezborger.  And stare at his pretty pretty face.  Or at least that's what I was doing.

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For all of you who have listened to my mutton busting story in person, I can now offer video that entered my feed reader this week courtesy of Boing Boing.

Becca is making a big change and wrote a beautiful and inspiring post about it.

Dano kicked some ass in a 6.8 mile race on Tuesday night and I was waiting at the finish line for him, playing paparazzo. 

I've fallen for Lamebook thanks to Mo, and I still spend way too much time at There, I Fixed It.

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The parental notification for minors seeking abortions may take effect in the state of Illinois after decades of court cases.  Again, I direct you to Bitch Ph.D. for the rundown.

Last Friday, I was in a Target and used the bathroom on my way out.  There was a positive pregnancy test laying next to the sink.  My initial "oh ick" was quickly replaced by sadness and secondhand fear for the person who had left it there.  As I drove out of the parking lot, I concocted a story about a woman who wanted a baby so bad she just had to take the test as soon as she bought it, who ran out of the bathroom in tears of joy, rushing home to celebrate.  I suppressed the part that nagged me, saying she probably would have taken it with her if that was the case.

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This week, years past:

2008:  A new season of Project Runway Chat started (the chat room is the important part, you know).  Season 6, now on Lifetime, Hot Mess: The Dramatic True Story of Project Runway, is set to start August 20th.

2007:  Our own personal Baby Jessica Well was discussed.

2006:  Catherine Elizabeth brought some hope back.

Again, my brother Wags and I threw together a racing trip at the last minute, just a few days before the event.  This time, instead of driving separately to Rossburg, Ohio, we drove separately to Beaver Dam, WI.  As Wags meandered his way towards the destination, stopping to visit old high school friends along the way, I sent him a text message asking if it was okay if we bought pit passes instead of grandstand tickets.  He was a little tentative, and I found out when he arrived that it was his first ever experience in the pits at a World of Outlaws race.  I had no idea.  I definitely would have corrected this before now if I had known.

Wags texted again when he arrived, and Dano and I met him at the pit area sign-in, where he was laughing, talking to a security guard, and taking a photo of the sign hanging on the fence:

After he got his wristband and signed away all of his rights, we started walking around the pits with another friend, Michael, and Wags was so excited it was contagious.  He grilled Michael relentlessly, getting the names and stories behind all of the local cars that he wasn't familiar with.  He was doing his lanky Wags Walk, which is part hipster, part Kermit the Frog, and he was wearing his newsboy hat, and the entire combination was just adorable. 

Back in the day, and by that I mean pretty much our entire lives before he got his new cell phone, Wags used to tease me about the amount of photos that I take.  "If you don't have a picture of it, are you sure it even happened?" was a common version of it.  So I couldn't help but get a little retaliation in when I saw him pause occasionally to take a cell phone picture or - gasp! - even video clips.  When I brought it up, he explained that his mocking of me was from before he realized how easy cell phone cameras make it, how even lazy people like him can now document their memories.  I'm so happy to hear him say that, and I look forward to seeing his pictures, because he has even more of an eye for the interesting and absurd than I do.

After Wags had poked around the pits for awhile, we wandered towards the pit grandstands and staked out a spot for hot laps and qualifying, during which we had a lot of time to chat.  Wags and Dano picked up where they left off at Eldora, talking about the feeling of time slowing down while driving a race car, and the comparisons to building up speed as a racer and as a drummer, which led to a discussion about the speed of light, which led to Wags sharing some of his new theories on life, death, religion, the afterlife, and living and making decisions out of love and assuming people's best intentions instead of worst.  The conversation has really stuck with me, so though I teased him relentlessly with the phrase "Are you doing that out of love?", I hope he knows that he made an impact.

Steve Kinser suffered some engine problems on his second qualifying lap and Dano asked Wags if he wanted to go watch him change the engine.  His eyes lit up like a little kid and we ducked behind the grandstands to mill around, careful to stay out of the way, while the 11 crew went to work.  It ended up not being serious enough for a full engine change, but it was still fascinating to watch.

We walked around the pits for a little while longer, standing in front of the WoO trailer watching the computerized scoring results come in as drivers and crew members walked back and forth, checking things out.  Lucas Wolfe walked up and Wags leaned over and whispered "I wonder if he'd take a picture wearing my hat."  I agreed that it would have looked great on him.

Wags commented several times on how amazing it was to him that everything we were doing was so "normal" for everyone else there, and I have to admit that I was one of those people until he arrived.  It was mundane, really.  But seeing it all through his eyes and his excitement was a real treat for me, and I'm so glad that he was there.  We talked about a British documentary that he watched about NASCAR, where they tried to explain to a NASCAR-less nation what the big deal was, how it differed from Formula 1, and one of the things they concentrated on was access.  How NASCAR drivers are much more accessible to the fans than F1 drivers.  By comparison, the World of Outlaws is a million time more accessible than NASCAR.  It's something that I always take for granted, because of that huge stack of photos that I have with every major WoO driver of the past 20 years with an arm around my shoulders, but it's something that Wags never fails to point out.  It never gets mundane to him, it is always new and he is always excited about it.  I love that.

When we sat back down in the pit grandstands, we chose to sit a little closer to turn three than previously, because of the way the fence line broke at the track exit, allowing us to see the sweep of turns three and part of four without the fence obscuring it.  Wags turned to me and said "Fencelessness!  I don't know if it's a word but it should be!" and I agree.  Dano and Wags talked about how beautiful it is to watch the cars set as they entered the corner, and I will never grow tired of listening to an English major describe a sprint car in motion.

Wags eventually decided he needed an even closer view, and went down to the inner, low fence, where he draped his arms across and watched a heat race just yards from the track itself.   Midway through, Steve Kinser walked up behind him, stood leaning on the fence to his right, and lit a cigarette.  From a distance, I could feel Wags' heart racing as he again felt that rush from something that so many of us have grown apathetic to.  My brother is an absolute treasure, y'all.

The A-main brought us a good race, though we had to suffer another Donny Schatz breakdown while leading.  When it was over and we headed out towards the exit, Wags gestured towards the track and his wristband and said "Can we go out there?" and we followed as he walked the track up to the highest point in the middle of three and four.

I used to have a rule about only taking new people to sprint car races at certain tracks, trying to ensure that they would have a better chance of enjoying it because of the creature comforts like less dust, better facilities, etc.  I've amended that rule.  I think that I will no longer be taking new people to sprint car races unless my brother is there. 

When he and I spoke a couple of months ago about Jack Kerouac and auto racing and documenting it the way that Jack saw it, the way we see it, not the way that all of those other people see it - Wags is light years ahead of me in that pursuit.  Because while I love sprint car racing, I still have my moments of jaded pessimism.

Wags loves with no fences.

Chicago, lost Italian tourist Roberto, the Magnificent Mile Art Festival, IRA at Wilmot

WoO at Beaver Dam with Wags and Dano

Birds along the river in McHenry, a diner I think my Dad would love, and Duke's new window in the new bathroom

Hey BLC? Nanananaaaananananananaaa.



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Slammin'



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I have, of course, been doing a lot of reading and watching of the Sarah Palin circus this week.  My favorite perspective can be found over at Bitch Ph.D. 

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I have racing on the agenda again this weekend - Wilmot IRA tomorrow night and WoO at Beaver Dam on Saturday.  This will be my first trip to Wilmot since sometime in 1998, by my calculations.  And my calculations are based on a vague memory of wearing a specific pair of pants the last time I was there, pants that were subsequently destroyed during my trip to Europe.  I need to keep better records.  Memories should not be invoked by pants.  Especially not that pair.

As always, if you'll be at either of these events and would like to say hello, leave me a comment or send an email and I will make appropriate arrangements to meet up with you.  Or just look for me.  On second thought, I'm not easy to spot.  Look for Dano.  You can't miss that hair from miles away.

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Speaking of meeting up, I will be at BlogHer in 2 weeks.  Oh my god.  BlogHer is in 2 weeks.  Eeeeek.  This is probably the last I'll mention it before the big event, so if you have questions, comments, or want to hurl things at my head in jealousy, get it out now.

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I've been doing something really unusual this week.  Sleeping.  Oh my stinkin' heck, have I missed sleep.  I slept so well last night that the dog even chose to cuddle up with me instead of seeking out his own bed, as he's been doing much more often over the past year.

Life is pretty awesome this week.  I am not sure if sleeping made life awesome or if life being awesome helped me sleep.  Either way.  I'm taking it.

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Yesterday between my morning commute and my trip home for lunch, the intersection at the train derailment site (which is right in the triangle formed by my house, my office, and my favorite diner) re-opened to traffic.  The blame game for the accident is still ongoing.  I don't have an opinion, besides my standard opinion that the Rockford Register Star is still in need of an editor.  It amuses me that they approved my comment on this article, but did not make the correction to the error in the article itself.  It doesn't amuse as much as the DIU charge or the sex assault program seeking volunteers, but I laugh nonetheless.

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This week, years past:

2008:  I experienced nostalgia for the present and wished my life would never change.  Duke and I talked baseball.

2007:  I whined about my 5 minute commute one time, which Duke hasn't let me forget to this day.  DuJane favorites The Hairy Pretzel and RunAway turned a post about my brother's band into a post about marathons, revolutions, tea, and taxes.

2006:  Duke built the Man Table and Kelly.K and I revealed our blogging secrets.

Sock matching issues slow us down.



*Sent from Louise, my sweet mobile internet robot.*

While I was enjoying my day, I suspect Duke was cursing his.  Work on the new super giant deck began in earnest this weekend.  He has taken to calling it Ewok Village 2009.  I'm hoping that isn't an indication of design inspiration.  This weekend's launch included a concrete pour, installation of one of many ledger boards, and the framing of a step that connects old deck to new.

Look, it's like we have our own Chicago Spire in the backyard! 

Wrecks supervises.

This project brought to you by the makers of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I started cooking dinner as soon as I got home from the grocery store.  I decided it would be lovely to eat outside.  Dano was on his way, the food was ready to go, the only thing I had to do was clean off the patio furniture.  While scrubbing the table, I realized something underneath it was . . . swarming.  So of course I screamed like a girl, ran away, and made the man who has already taken ambulance ride to the ER because of our yellow jacket problem take care of it.  He did a great job.

My new recipe of the evening can be found here at 101 Cookbooks.  And because I like making Marc's head explode, I'll outline all of the things I did differently after giving you a perfectly awesome-sounding recipe that I never even tried to replicate as-is before making alterations.  I used half purple cabbage, for no other reason than color, I added sugar snap peas because I once made a chopped salad that was seasoned similarly and the snap peas provided the most amazing crunch, and my oil was a mix of sesame and olive.  Oh, and I gave the dressing a generous shake of red pepper flakes.  I omitted the jalapeno.  I also probably used more cilantro than called for, because cilantro is an entire food group in my house.  I think it's a keeper.

It's called coleslaw, but Duke won't eat coleslaw, so we called it "salad" last night and I'd appreciate it if you'd play along if I ever serve it to you.  This was the first slaw that I've made since purchasing my mezzaluna and I'm never going back to whatever I used to do.

I also made a fruit salad that is going to overtake the earth.  Shown here in Pampered Chef's trifle dish, and also taking up half of my fridge in various containers.  Washing and cutting strawberries and de-stemming grapes and pitting cherries is a pain.  I apparently only have the energy to do it once.  So I made enough to last the rest of my lifetime.

The focal point was teriyaki shrimp and beef kebobs with onions and peppers.  When Dano watched me loading up the grill, he asked "Who is going to eat all of this food?" 

About 20 minutes later, his eyes widened as he watched Duke gnawing meat straight off of a pile of skewers like a caveman.  I said "Do you understand now?" and he nodded.  Meekly.  As though he was scared he might lose a limb if he came between Duke and the feed bucket.

Then Dano and I chilled out and enjoyed the beautiful night.  He is in marathon training and my contribution is running music and the occasional home-cooked refueling meal. 

Wrecks says "Screw you, dude.  I run 14 miles every day.  You aren't special.  Give me some shrimp.  Right now."

And Duke went straight back to work.  Until long past dark.

More Ewok Village 2009 photos coming soon.

Duke and I just returned home from Sunrise Mass, our weekend brunch tradition at the Sunrise Family Restaurant.  It usually involves a lot of people dressed in church clothes, and us, wearing pajamas and hangover faces.

We went to a wedding last night, the most laid-back wedding you can ever imagine.  The bride wore black, the groom ran around half the night wearing an apron with, ummmm, extra anatomy.  A pig was roasted.  Duke lit off so many fireworks that he still smells kind of explosive this morning.  I met a guy who is totally going to be my new BFF, I even told him so.  His name is Cramer.  I laughed until I thought I was going to cry several times, while he and Duke had conversations about converting to Judaism, weightlifting in the 1800s, and the always popular "My motorcycle brand is superior to yours in the following ways . . ."

Duke:  November?  You ride that far in November?

Cramer:  I have heated hand grips.

Duke:  I have a windshield.

Cramer:  I have a heated jacket.

Duke:  I have plywood that I painted black that I zip-tie to the crash bars to block the wind.

Cramer:  I have a heated neckwarmer that relaxes the muscles in my back while I ride.

Duke:  I have a custom seat with fingers that massage my balls.  Does your BMW have that?

They served "apple pie shots".  I drank a lot.  I have to believe that the alcohol content was nowhere near what they were claiming it was, because I didn't even feel a buzz.  And many of you are well aware of what a lightweight I can be.

We elected not to camp overnight because of the weather, so we drove home through several small town fireworks shows, which was fun.  Every spot on the horizon had fireworks launching.  I felt like a little kid.

Yesterday was also the first time I've gone significantly disconnected since Louise came into my life.  I left her at home.  From 2 pm to 11:30ish, I was nowhere near the internet, text messaging, or a phone.  It felt terrifying but also a little awesome.  This is a dress rehearsal for my weekend off the grid that I must complete as part of the 101 in 1001 list.

Today, my agenda includes a serious purge of my kitchen cabinets, some deep cleaning in several areas of the house, and a trip to the grocery store.  And True Blood.  Good god.  Sundays exist for True Blood, I think.

How was your 4th?  Does everyone have the same number of fingers as last week?  What are you all up to today?

Beer. Burning stuff. Yeah.



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1 Wrecks + 2 Menards brand 12" Sonotubes + 1 Kraft Single = Awesome