the dogs of summer vacation

Banshee cowers behind a recliner whenever a thunderstorm rolls through--which is often. Last night, quite by accident, someone left her locked out on the deck during an epic inundation. She was pretty quiet this morning, but by the afternoon had rebounded, returning to her perch atop the Dog Sofa. (That's owner Heather at right.)


Cody looks scary and has a rumbly growl--but she's just talking to you, mostly when you have appetizing food on your plate. "Appetizing food" means "anything edible." Watch your toes around Cody--she's liable to lick them clean.

Together, Banshee and Cody are an inseparable unit I call Prewash, after their role in the dishwashing cycle.

the loneliest Mariner fans

The crowd was stomping and clapping and shouting, "Let's go White Sox, LET'S GO!" Bases loaded, nobody out, Sox down 7-2, hot hitting Josh Fields at bat, hard throwing J.J. Putz brought in to douse the flames. Nope. The crowd exploded as Fields homered to center, and raised its voice when Jim Thome's bat cracked in a hard liner to right--but was silenced when Jose Guillen scooted in to make the catch. Two strikeouts later, all the 38,000-odd Sox fans had left was the free fireworks.

It was much closer than it should've been, mostly because McLaren stuck with O'Flaherty through the 9th, which isn't his usual role, giving up a couple bloop singles, and George Sherrill uncharacteristically walked his only batter. But we held on to win on a muggy August night, keeping pace with the Angels and staying just barely atop the wild card race. What a game.

Photos below. Click the timestamp or the title to see more than three.


New Comiskey, otherwise known as U.S. Cellular Field.


All that's left of the old Comiskey, which now serves as a parking lot. Here, a shadow of the past stands in.


Gotta pay the bills.


We've been staying with Heather and Chris for the past week and a half, so we took them out to the game as thanks for tolerating us. Here, Chris contemplates Carlton Fisk's bronze athleticism.


A less cluttered view of the field.


The M's take BP.


Chris spent most of batting practice shouting "Aw, c'mon, throwithere! C'mon!" to the three Mariner relievers who were shagging flies.


Out of Ryan Rowland-Smith, Sean Green, and Eric O'Flaherty, only Ryan would toss a baseball to whining kids. Hey Aussie, how about a little love for the only Seattle fan in the right field bleachers? Geez.


The shadow lets you know that the sun beat down upon us with the fury of a Roger Clemens hot dog.


Mmm... brats... Easily the best concession in the park. Heather and Chris usually go during the 4th inning, but we couldn't wait.


Jones in Ibanez's spot. I wonder if he would've gotten the same abuse from the drunken lout who heckled Raul all game before departing in the 9th. ("I'm a Sox fan, born on the South Side, raised on the South Side, f--- the Cubs." And he leaves early?)


The Mariners celebrate after Putz fans Erstad to close out the game.


The 6:05 games have a spectacular fireworks show afterward.


A fine way to end the evening: victory and exploding phosphorus.

photos of our trip to Milwaukee

A few from today's visit. If you see five, click the timestamp or the title to see all 11.


Our major destination: the Milwaukee Art Museum, home to an impressive collection of works classical and modern, and itself a work of art designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. This is a side view of the Burke Brise Soleil [sun break], which moves to accommodate the sun, and, at times, to music. Photogenic from almost any angle.



Seen from below, inside.



What a difference three hours make: we entered the museum just as rain clouds rolled out, and left when the remainder burned away. Oh, and I should mention that the MAM was the only reason we drove two hours to Milwaukee, since Melissa had been talking about going since her return from Spain. Thankfully, it was well worth the trip.



A view of Lake Michigan from the War Memorial that sits atop the museum.


Milwaukee, like a lot of cities, has architecture.


Also, it has a distinct lack of architectural consistency.


You can lease some Milwaukee architecture, if you feel so inclined.

Sadly, we didn't have time to stop in Sturtevant and visit the University of Lawsonomy, which apparently consists of a barn encouraging passersby to "Study Natural Law." Alfred Lawson was a crank of cranks.

In the 1920s, he promoted health practices including vegetarianism and claimed to have found the secret of living to 200. He also developed his own highly unusual theories of physics, according to which such concepts as "penetrability", "suction and pressure" and "zig-zag-and-swirl" were discoveries on par with Einstein's Theory of Relativity. He published numerous books on these concepts, all set in a distinctive typography. Lawson repeatedly predicted the worldwide adoption of Lawsonian principles by the year 2000.

Perhaps Lawson's beliefs never caught on because his students couldn't keep themselves from distraction, provided in two classic Wisconsin forms:


The Bong Recreation Area...



...and the Mars Cheese Castle.

I love Wisconsin.

Rowan's indictment

This is Rowan. He is charged with multiple felonies, including, but not limited to...

• Refusing to come downstairs in a timely fashion
• Abusing gendered pronouns by referring to men as "she / her" and women as "he / him."
• Spilling water, rambunctiously and with intent
• Screaming unprovoked
• Failure to yield the floor
• Excessive imaginating

a little sepsis in the evening

As I write, a friend of the family, along for our Chicago adventure, lies doped up on antibiotics in South Suburban Hospital, fending off sepsis. She was peremptorily admitted last night, released, and then admitted again as a precaution, since she's flying home today. A lesson for you, no matter what your age: don't swim in Lake Michigan after popping a blister. And don't ignore your swelling ankles and the nasty red streak on your leg. And don't wait 'til it starts to hurt. And don't say "I'll have it checked tomorrow after we get home."

Meanwhile, just in time for a drive to see friends in Champaign, my head cold is dissipating like a tornado.

light blogging today

I have my semi-annual cold, aches and nasal drip par excellence. I can't taste, and I'm on vacation in freaking Chicagoland, home of Beef Everything.

Sucks.

not in Washington anymore

And so, no tornado today. It, according to the NOAA's report, "dissipated" before reaching Homewood. The flood warning, though, is still in effect until 12:15 tomorrow morning. Until then, we'll stay inside, in the cool of the A/C, and marvel at the thunder.

This is no place like home.

Update: What we missed. Or, more accurately, what missed us.

a tossing fad

Yesterday I got to meet the 163,000 members of Melissa's side of the family at the annual lakeside reunion. Photos, with requisite explanations, below. (If only 3 appear, click the timestamp or the title to see them all.)


Each year all 163,000 family members line up on the dock for the photo, as depicted here. Anyone absent is photoshopped in later.


If you feel inclined to ride the wake, Uncle David is the good captain. Uncle Fred, on the other hand... but this is Uncle David driving, and everyone comes back whole.


No bubbles were harmed in the making of this photograph.


The dragonfly molted.


The title refers to this horseshoe-esque game, called "Bags," or "Cornhole" or "Corn Toss." You toss a beanbag toward the opposite board, hoping to either land it on the playing surface (1 point), or make it through the hole (3 points). Equal tosses offset, zero points. Apparently a huge fad in Midwest, it's relatively unknown everywhere else. Time for a revolution.


In which I catch Jeff admiring his toss--frozen just above the board. Look closely.


With fans like these...

bits of Chicago

Before I post photos from yesterday's family reunion, a few scraps.

1. The infamous rivalry between Sox and Cubs fans is most heated in the realm of children's apparel. God forbid that a little tyke should grow up emulating the wrong side. (Either side.)

2. The Mariners logo on my ballcap was initially, and dangerously, mistaken for a Sox logo by a rabid Cubs fan. I escaped when my nonpartisan status was confirmed by closer inspection.

3. I enjoy the chance to read the Chicago Tribune, but miss those "late" baseball scores. Silly time zones. K.C. Johnson's trip to the NBA's D-league, land of resuscitating dreams, makes up for the deficit today. (We lost, anyway.)

4. Chicagoans really say "dese" for "these" and "dere" for "there." A sample video is provided below.

Warren Dunes photos

No landscaping today. Instead, a trip to Warren Dunes State Park, a Michigan favorite.


The view from the umbrella, from which I narrowly missed a chance to craft a potential YouTube sensation. A couple kids, under their mom's guidance, buried their brother face down in the sand, covered his head with a beach towel, and set a pile of Bugles corn chips on his back. I watched in horror and journalistic fascination, recording video all the while with my digital camera. I expected--hoped?--the birds would peck him, to his utter misery. Unfortunately, he leaped up shouting a split second before they landed on his back, and the moment was ruined.

Don't feed the birds, people. Even if Mom says it's okay.


A dune facing Lake Michigan.


We're spending the night in South Bend, home of Saint Mary's and that other Catholic university of repute--and scads and scads of corn.

enlisted man

I don't know how you spend your vacations, but I like to landscape whenever I get the chance.


Grandma B. had trimmed these bushes down to nubbins....


...leaving this lovely pile in the driveway for two weeks.


So, kids and grandkids got together to chip, shred, shovel, dump, and rake.


The end. Well, almost.

Millennium Park photos

We spent a good part of the day roaming Chicago's Michigan Avenue region, the crown jewel, of course, being Millennium Park, Mayor Daley's ode to public space and private investment. Here are some of the better photos. (If only three appear, click the timestamp or the title to see all of them.)


At first glance, The Bean appears to be a bubble from another dimension, primed to burst and wipe out our existence.


A better angle, though, reveals its artistry, beauty, and charm. It's probably the most photogenic item in Chicago.


Be sure to go underneath The Bean, a vertigo-inducing experience, like walking into an Escher painting. This photo doesn't do it justice.


You can't miss Crown Fountain, packed with drenched kids and camera-toting moms on a hot July day. The digitally created face changes from time to time, blinking and spitting and flooding in regular rotation.


Sculptures by Mark di Suvero. Feel free to ride the cast-iron swing in the background.



Frank Gehry designed the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, if you couldn't tell. We listened to the Grant Park Orchestra's excursion through "Swan Lake," lounging on the grass. Best free concerts in America, I'm told.


The curvaceous and sun-friendly BP Bridge connects the eastern edge of the park to the world outside. (Another park.)


The Art Institute of Chicago, reflected. A docent would probably tell you that my photo epistemologically distances the viewer from the institute-as-object. I'm only guessing; we didn't have time to go inside.


A Moore sculpture outside the Institute, "Large Interior Form 6."


Trees are lovely, aren't they?


"Man Hanging Out" by David Černý, atop Columbia College. From a distance, you may not be able to discern that the man is Sigmund Freud.


Seagulls appreciate the finer things.


When walking about Chicago's downtown, beware the Segway tours. Here, otherwise innocent visitors learn to become fearless devil-riders.


Last, an update of the classic, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice!" How do you get to the Chicago Tribune? Inner drive! (The shot was a complete accident, I swear.)