jonathan

today, the baron is thinking about the brother, her brother, he who is currently flying over an ocean or maybe some land mass, toward new jersey. he has spent the last few months in india, calling infrequently, emailing now and then, and no doubt having an excellent time. he was there studying yoga, taking and teaching yoga classes in a mountain town called dharamsala. the baron and the husband have long wanted to visit india, and are both impressed by and jealous of the brother's experience.

there's something else, though, some other feeling the baron is having in regards to the brother's trip. she is feeling envious, to be sure, but also happy and content. these last two puzzle her, and she has been thinking hard about why she should feel happy and content at the brother's travels.

she has decided that it has to do with her relationship to the brother, how it has changed. it has to do with her memory of their teenaged years, when they could scarcely stand to be in each other's company. their views on everything (including life and music and family and friendship and even tedious things like haircuts) were VASTLY different. in her recollection, the only thing they could agree on was the mutually exclusive nature of their futures - as in, 'you won't be in mine and i won't be in yours, and thank god for it.'

those were dark days. so dark, in fact, that she did not even know they could get better, but then, something funny happened. the baron moved to silver spring, maryland, to go to school, and left her mother and brother behind with nary a backward glance. she mostly stayed away too, coming home for holidays and occasionally in the summer, but by and large she was gone. her life and attentions were elsewhere.

it seems now that her absence was the thing that allowed the brother to become his own person - though she recognizes the arrogance in taking credit for the brother's growth. but, arrogant though it may be, she thinks it's the truth: that she left, and the brother - unfettered and alone and no longer limned out against the background of his older sister - was able to come into his own.

and he has.

he has become an intelligent and caring man, 27 years old now, with a natural curiousity and a fresh way of looking at the world. indeed, his perspective frequently impresses and surprises the baron. he is patient and foul mouthed and sometimes smelly, and also kind and capable of making a delicious cheese sandwich - which he often did for his sister, unasked, when she was lately in town for a visit. he's remarkably open-minded and accepting of the baron's choices (even when she has been vocally opposed to his), welcoming the husband and the dogs into his life. he's a well-rounded person, see? and all of this, the baron knows, has NOTHING TO DO WITH HER. she had no influence on him, other than to leave him alone. she claims no credit towards making him the good, good person he is today. in her memory, she left for school and when she came back 5 years later, he was changed.

she cannot even fashion a pithy sentence or two to tell him how she feels, though she so badly wants him to know that she admires and respects him. instead, the baron can only wait for his plane to land in new jersey, where he'll catch a train to union station, and will be collected there by the husband. the three of them will have lunch together, and dinner too, at one of their favorite restaurants, and all the while the baron will hope that in her casual conversation ('how was the flight? and the food? and the locals?') he can hear how proud of him she is, how delighted she is to call him brother, how she just can't get over the fantastic man he's become.

one more reason to move west

the baron and the husband have, in their yard, two smith & hawken compost bins. the baron loves them. she loves that they're made with recycled plastics, that they hold 13 cubic feet of yard and kitchen clippings, that they are sturdy (and so can repel curious dogs and wildlife) and that they were ridiculously inexpensive (having been purhased through a community composting program in california). more even than those things, though, the baron likes the idea of them - that into the bin can go lemon wedges and apple cores, coffee grounds and tea bags (staples removed), onion ends and garlic peels, tomato innards and lettuce ends, and out will come dark, earthy smelling compost. the diy aspect of it appeals to her (a little work in, big reward out), as does the notion of having free, organic compost for the vegetable and herb gardens. also, she likes the idea of significantly reducing the amount of kitchen waste that makes it to the curb.

but.

what does not appeal to her at all about the bins is the fact that they are really only serviceable for a limited time each year. this is because there is winter where the baron lives. you may be thinking, 'baron, there is winter everywhere!' but the baron would retort, 'not so much. unless you count those 65 degree january days (the ones that the baron's mother and mother-in-law experience) as winter.' the baron is bitter, did you notice?

the baron can usually swallow her annoyance with the bins and the five-serviceable-months aspect of them, except that she and the husband placed them in a poor spot - a spot that gets just 1 hour of sunlight per day. this means that the content of the bins break down at a very, very slow rate... so slow, in fact, that last summer the baron only got one load of compost (and it wasn't very good compost at that, evidenced by tucker picking out partially decomposed apple cores and eating them).

this summer, the baron has vowed to make the most of her time with the bins. she spent the better part of saturday moving the bins from one corner of the yard to the other. this new spot gets minimal morning sun and significant afternoon sun, which will surely make a difference. she has also resolved to turn them more frequently, which should also make a difference.

if this new plan doesn't work, if she is not granted a good amount of nutrient rich, organic compost at the end of the season, the baron doesn't know what she will do. sob maybe?

eat this (plant based material)!

the baron likes this shirt very much. she found it sometime late last year, at the herbivore clothing company's website, and bought it for the husband as a holiday gift. the paramilitary aspect of the design appeals to her - the intricate blade design and the crossed swords. also those fern things on the side, it's all so symmetrical and pretty and evokative of civilized violence. also, there at the bottom? where you can't quite see? it reads: 'liberate protect avenge', which the baron loves best of all.

don't misunderstand - were you, reader, to share a meal with the baron and her husband at some vague, imagined restaurant, they would not abuse you for ordering the chicken, they would not try to liberate, protect or avenge your meal at all. they are not the sort of 'no meat' eaters who proselytize, sharing their unwanted opinions above the protestations of company. they would respect your desire for chicken, and they would expect you to do the same of their not-chicken. see how simple? to get along?

already?

this is a branch the dogwood tree that sits in the baron's front yard. it's a lovely tree, as the blooms plainly show. sadly, the flowers have already fallen, and are replaced by leaves. the leaves are nice, too, but there's just something about a tree full of blushing pink flowers...

the BEST STATE EVER

today the baron is thinking about how california really is the best state. she has said this before, making that sweeping comment based mostly on the fact that her family is there, as are san francisco, berkeley, los angeles, los angeles' good vegan restaurants, riverside (which, despite its location in the inland empire and in spite of the fact that it is consistently ranked among the nation's worst locations for air quality, is one of the baron's favorite places), and all that orange county coastline.

now, though, the baron has one more reason to tout california as the BEST STATE EVER, and it goes a little something like this: the california supreme court (the BEST SUPREME COURT EVER) ruled that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to marry. to do this, the court overturned two california state laws that had defined marriage as a union between a man and a woman.

it is perhaps worth noting that, in this regard, massachusetts might also be a good place to live.

for newly minted and her purple shirt.

lunch

today the baron is thinking about meatloaf and waistbands, and how the two often work at odds with each other. in fact, the two are working against each other right now, on the baron's person. the meatloaf (aka the baron's lunch) is putting up rather a good fight against her waistband. the waistband's retaliation? cozying up uncomfortably to the baron's waist.

the baron is only thinking about meatloaf and waistbands - and, for that matter, calories, gym time, miles run and thong underwear - because a suit that she ordered from the interweb arrived at her house last night.

it turned out that this suit, so cute and navy blue and tidy looking, was actually a pima wool harbinger of bad things to come.

because?

the pants didn't fit.

so, among and between the thoughts of meatloaf and pinched waists, the baron is trying to get a fucking grip on herself about it all. she is thinking to herself, 'hey, self! don't feel bad about those pants! they're a terrible cut! and also, you still look great!'

self has yet to respond.

for theresa.

city politics

the baron and the husband sit on a committee in their town - it's called the animal welfare committee and among its members are citizens from each of the city's neighborhoods and the city's animal control officer (aco).

earlier this week, the baron received a note from the aco asking if she or her co-chair could attend a meeting at city hall, a meeting to discuss the fy09 budget. specifically, wrote the aco, a citizen of the town (a woman, identified by her address on 52nd street) had voiced some concerns and possible criticisms of the aco's budget. it would be good, the aco wrote on, for a tax paying member of the community to attend and defend the budget against the woman's comments.

the baron and the husband, both tax paying citizens, attended the budget meeting, held in council chambers (not so grand or interesting a room as it sounds). at the entrance to council chambers was a table with copies of the draft fy '09 budget and two sign-in sheets. the husband and the baron moved toward the table, where the baron quickly took up a copy of the budget. somehow, the baron felt that grasping a draft budget was akin to holding a cocktail at a cocktail party: it both kept her hands busy and justified her presence there. the husband, meanwhile, was busy signing his name to one of the two sheets of paper on the table, and, when he asked the baron if she didn't want her name down too, she most assertively declined.

they found seats, and soon thereafter town citizens and the city council started filing in. the baron and the husband murmured among themselves, trying to pick out the woman who lived on 52nd street. they (correctly, it turned out) decided she was the middle aged woman in a green suit (a tragic-shade-of-green-with-black-pattern suit), sitting three rows from them. soon, the first part of the meeting began; during this time, the public was able to comment on the budgetary process though not actual line items in the budget. 52nd street approached the podium and attested to the fact that she did not want property taxes raised, that she had examined the budget very closely, and that she had identified numerous areas where the budget could be trimmed to make up for revenue lost by not raising taxes.

it is worth noting that she sounded totally normal and sane, and did not single out the aco's budget as an area of superfluous and/or irresponsible city spending.

soon thereafter, the first part of the meeting closed for comment and the second part of the meeting began: this was the time when citizens could comment on the actual budget. the mayor (who the baron had previously identified as a dead ringer for gigolo joe - at least in terms of hair and face sheen) began reading names - the names of people who had signed up to comment.

the first words out of his mouth were: "john shea, is there a john shea here?"

the husband and the baron looked quickly at each other and exchanged mental 'wtf!'s. the husband raised his hand, and said with a confidence that he did not feel, "i'll go last, after everyone else's comments. i'm not prepared just yet."

the mayor looked startled and not a little annoyed, but said with as much grace as a man who looks like gigolo joe can muster, "ok, i'll move you to the end of the list if you don't mind."
in the meantime, 52nd street was called up again to speak about her particular concerns with the budget. the husband and the baron readied themselves to take mental note of her argument, so that the husband could offer cogent and relevant counter points during his time at the podium.

at the podium, 52nd street reiterated her concerns about raised property taxes, then offered an example of where she believed the budget could be cut.

"aha!" thought the baron. "here we go," thought the husband.

however.

the only example 52nd street offered was regarding conference and membership fees - apparently the city pays all its employees conference fees and professional association fees, to the tune of about 700k per year. this, thought the baron, was kind of a good point, and a mild one too. with a last plea against property tax increase, and the suggestion that money could be found in the budget, 52nd street stepped down.

ahem. the husband and the baron laid down their mental note taking tools and frowned, for what, now, could be the husband's rebuttal?

other various people moved toward the podium and offered their ideas about not raising property taxes, including one woman who suggested turning off every other light in the city's buildings, and switching to eco-friendly lightbulbs.

then, it was the husband's turn. he stepped to the podium and winged this: 'i first would like to apologize for my naivete - i thought that was a sign in sheet, so that'll teach me to read things before signing, eh?" - no one laughed.

the husband went on to say that he agreed with the general concensus that taxes shouldn't be raised, and that he had lived in many communities across the country and had seen different cities' approaches to raising revenue (citing anaheim, ca and phoenix, az as - pretty good, thought the baron - examples). he also pointed out that if taxes increased but city services did not improve, the city would become less attractive to people looking to move to the area.
then, he apologized again for his mistake and sat down.

this second part of the meeting wrapped up fairly quickly after this bungle, and as soon as tactfully possible the baron and the husband moved hastily toward the exit.

more beer

the husband's beer obsession presses on, aided by his hobnobbing with the home brewing elite this past weekend. evidently, the husband was able to ask some questions of the experts, in between his proctoring and running. the baron is hoping that the answers to these questions might lead to a sweeter raspberry flavored beer. mostly, though, she's happy to let the husband's general delight and enthusiasm about all things beer flourish, even as the whole beer-brewing endeavor threatens to take over her dining room and basement. anyway, the baron has since forgotten what types of beers are percolating in her dining room, but she knows the husband is keeping track with sharpie markers and colored labels.

sing a song for saturday

saturday was a long day for the baron and the husband.

the husband spent the day in virginia, at an event the baron dubbed 'beerapalooza'. amateur home brewers from near and near traveled to old dominion brewery ready to share their best home brewed beer. the husband was being a proctor or a runner - the baron is fuzzy on the details of his activities, but he was either ferrying beer from the competitors to the judges, or he was sitting with the judges to make sure they drank the beer... correctly? fuzzy.

the baron spent the day baking dog biscuits for a fundraiser hosted by the committee she co-chairs. she doesn't take the committee members ('pernicious do-gooders', the husband calls them) too seriously, but she takes the committee's mission very seriously indeed. as such, she spent the day slapping together flour and milk and peanut butter, then baking treats, then meticulously wrapping treats; the biscuits were bone shaped and not too bad, according to the baron's brood.

the baron and the husband reconvened at home in the late afternoon, tired and mostly fed up with their wasted saturday. it was quickly decided that an antidote was called for, the universal antidote to the saturday blues: liquor.

the baron's drinky-drinky put her in right good spirits, and it worked for the husband too, as he came into the house from the garden (where he had been relaxing with the latest 'phoenix home and garden (and all the things you cannot have in maryland)' - but that last part of the title is implied and not actually on the masthead) bearing this information:

'when i am happy, i sing a song. it goes: une, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huite, neuf, dix, onze, douze, treize, quatorze, vingt, vingt et une, vingt et deux'.

yes, he skipped from fourteen to twenty and ended at twenty-two, but do you think it's possible that he might have just kept on singing-counting? in perpetuity? or just until the rum ran out?

tucker bear

sometimes, the baron sings a song to tucker that goes a little something like this:

tucker bear
tucker bear
does whatever a tucker bear does
see him run
like he can
he is just
a big white dog

this is, of course, sung to the tune of the 'spiderman' theme song.
the ramones version.

tilting, tilting

this is a lithograph that hangs on the wall of the baron's dining room. the husband found it at a thrift store, in a broken frame that hardly detracted from the beauty of the print. it's by a spanish artist called augustin ubeda, and - though it doesn't explicitly reference cervantes in any way - the husband and the baron are convinced that there's a quixote-esque overtone to it, don't you think?

anyway, it's signed and numbered by the artist and the baron and the husband love it.

take those wings and fly

the baron promises, it's the last picture of bvd - for today at least.

scuttlebutt

the baron is aware that this place has been a bit heavy on the baron von dachshund stuff, but she can't help it: bvd is sometimes vexing but usually delightful. for instance, when he runs across the lawn as fast as his little, little legs will carry him? delightful. but, if you look closely at this photo, you can see his mouth is open and he's getting his bark on - vexing.

he's complex, this little dog.

the gentleman in repose

here is harlan pepper, taking a break from his busy afternoon of squirrel chasing and lounging on the lawn. he is probably bracing himself for a sunny spot nap.

a friend of the baron recently said, 'it's good to be a dog at your house' ('your' in this case referring to the baron and the husband). the baron sincerely hopes her friend is right.

words set to melody (part iii)

also 'new slang', 'phantom limb', and 'turn on me' by the shins.

and 'california stars', by wilco.

and 'girls just want to have fun', by cindy lauper.

and 'duck down' by the roots.

and 'body movin'' by the beastie boys.

grapevines and things that cast light

the photo above was taken recently, in the baron's yard. it's kind of tricky - can you spot the ladybugs? and what are those ladybugs doing? anyway, they're paused in the crook of a grapevine, perhaps taking a breath after their springtime exercise.