Randomosity of the Stars

Today is a day of spectacularly promiscuous, footloose freedom. OK, near freedom. I’m almost done with the three giant, supremely frustrating and nebular gala programs that I was laying out and prettifying. The hard part – making sense of and organizing a thousand different files, submitted with conflicting instructions ('natch) from tired teams of dedicated (and sometimes wicked cranky) volunteers.

All I’ve got left are random tweaks (change June 7th to June 7, replace the pic on page 57 with this one, switch so and sos title from Ms. to Dr., etc). I am thrilled to itty bits to have these off (almost off) my plate.

I’ll hit the gym for a long workout (instead of sitting in front of a computer screen all day), start a new painting and hit Saint Fratelli’s for some celebration pie. Ya know, there’s nothing better than warm blueberry pie. Unless of course it’s warm apple or, better still, warm apple/pear pie. The Amazing Bob made the most amazing apple/pear pie. I wonder if I can get Jen or Ten to whip one up for me…hmmmm.

What better way to usher in a day of footloosery than by cleaning out my cell phone’s camera? HEY, do I know how to live OR WHAT!?

The pic, above right – that’s Hillel, Jen and Ten next to the big-ass Tyrannosaurus Rex in the Pittsburgh airport. Yes, it's not enough to accompany and support me on these visits to Daddy. I gotta force each of them to pose next to this dead but still scary boy. I seem to recall Jen saying the T-Rex  (not to be confused with T.Rex) had just cut the cheese (Limburger, I believe) and Ten was annoyed because the damn beast was whispering lame pick-up lines and puns to him. Hillel? He’d just asked Dino for a dance. 

Do I have wonderfully patient chums OR WHAT!?
More fun at the airport, (Boston not Pittsburgh) the watery tiled floor. This school of catfish (are they catfish?) fill me with happy peace and a need to purchase breadcrumbs.

Next up – three ornamental (I don’t think anyone was living there) teepees in front of the Crow trading post located a few yards outside of the scene of the Battle of Greasy Grass.

Here's a poor, slaughtered Montana moose. I absolutely LOVED Montana but could, seriously now, do with a shit-ton fewer proudly displayed dead animals heads.

My new fave word:

Dolchstoßlegende – stab in the back myth

When the German Empire collapsed in autumn 1918, at once theories of conspiracy appeared to explain the sudden breakdown. One theory was that the German Army had not been beaten on the battlefield, but was stabbed in the back by the mutinies in the Navy and by the outbreak of the revolution in Berlin. (source)

When Preznint Stupid and his criminal cohorts are thrown outta power, their treasonously idiotic fanbois will, doubtless, come up with a zillion Dolchstoßlegende. After all, Fascism can’t fail – it can only BE failed…and shit.

AND, final pic of the morning, Horton – Dr. Seuss’s egg hatching elephant. Seen on our visit to the wonderful Dr. Seuss Museum this past winter.