Generosity flows in abundance within Yours Truly. You know this.
*sidebar:
As I'm thinking of flowing, i.e. coursing blood and guts, I am transported back to yesterday's photo shoot with yet another mad scientist dealing in RNA. Being an M.S. he would take my 101 questions and run with them charmingly, breathlessly, at one point trotting me across the hallway to see a special reusable plate, its viewing light table of sorts, and the scanner upon which the molecular info on the plate is recorded and printed out after I think I may have queried about some shadowy shapes pasted into his notebook. After spotting it, I was going to comment upon his very Euro and artful-looking handwriting but thought he'd suss me out as a hyper-curious chronicler interested in most things and a follower of scientific developments - to a serious novice point.
Cryptology, I am certain, would not have been among his mad scientific interests.
*sidebar complete.
To prove this point Perfectly go here, enter, and if You do win and YT does not (nor Loomis, who turned me on to this dream thing), I get a key to the joint and the op to drop in any time. I will also demand that a Japanese tea house be constructed in the garden, I have one in mind. And within the house there will be a studio for YT. I mean really, I told you about this stinkin' contest.

Love, a good contest.

Explosions of good vibes out to boypals Last Conservative, opening for (wretch, small one) Bon Jovi of gigantic teeth and tight leather-wrapped arse fame.
As MikeZ is no longer in LC I am so not all over shooting this gig and heard this week from his cousin James that MikeZ is going to be re-emerging with his brother, and other familial ensemble in a rollicking blues band. Apparently they've had a gig and people were essentially throwing veritable undies and the like in glee.
Last night's Soup Night like totally rocked, with Yours Truly preparing a newbie - roasted carrot and parsnip with ginger and it really was fab - as were Blair's two soupy constructions.
Good people and then met Hilary notClinton out and that was high times, a few misdemeanours, especially some really bad art that persists in this venue. The bad art in question involves a lightbulb and I sort of mentioned I would buy it for Hilary and her fiancé Matthew for a wedding gift as they'd never be short a lightbulb. Unless, of course, they did not replenish that upon the bad art.
Yesterday dropped an art piece at Trinity for Colleen's art bennie tonight that I will breeze into and today dropped two portraits of the Foster kids for a show of sorts opening early next month.
A dose of Mercury Rev before rejoining the public of this unseasonally warm Middling City with eveningdreams of hightailing it to the Shiney Apple as homesickness is raging and Dorota et al beckon.

Love is a beckon.

In this crazy online world one can find virtually everything for sale, including ponderous and zany Evangelware such as this tshirt above.
The designer of it has another few gems for kids, too, like shirts emblazoned with cryptic messages about cleanliness.

No love for ill-hitting irony.

Had an unfortunate run-in with the talents and scissors of one Middling City hair stylist who swore he was adept at all things Bumble and Bumble. His interpretation of the haircut I had had was to send me out into the world with an oddball suburban 'do, slathered in product - as they love to say. I washed out said product and took some nice sharp little scissors I bought to cut Kennedy's hair to the bangs that I did so like and which were a disastrous heap. To more interesting result. As I like to say, It's only hair. In months and months it'll look, it'll be ready to take another stab at trust and cut.
On a less hairy note, I photographed the bald new Chancellor of SUNY system twice today - on his special tour of the earthquake center where all of us watched a 3 on the Richter scale faux quake, and later at a speecherific thing. He is John Ryan, very humble, referred to himself as Your bald Chancellor.
After the second gig and the furious burn of cd's for my editrix I saw the just-completed catastrophe of a two-car crash via one driver having sped through a red light.
Nobody was able to get out of their respective cars and three firetrucks were on the scene.
Do not, repeat, do not run red lights.
Oh, on a very light light note I laptopped at a very mediocre lunch joint near a puppy salon so, of course, I had to rush in and play with a few pups. Later, at the second portion of Chancellor Love, while talking to a few others, I realized I was covered in delicious puppy stank.

Puppy Stank Love.

Today the Native-financed wrecking ball was raised and lowered, raised and lowered, raised and lowered on the brick portion of HO Oats. The duet of Empire Dismantling apparently not taking a federal-style MLK, Jr. Holiday. No matter when I stray over to the site there seems to be several on foot or in cars stopping to watch the destruction and, as a matter of Perfect fact, saw Liz & Alan in the shadow of HOO yesterday afternoon.
Above, for your edification and plaisir, are two images from yesterday's foray: if, for whatever reason, You find yourself not understanding why these constructions deserve to live I will link you for a quick - and mind-altering - lesson in most matters grain elevatorial.
Did the post-Druidical people of the Land o' Windsors, windsor ties, curries and such rush to wreck freakin' Stonehenge fercrissakes.
I rest my grain elevator-adorationializing case.
Super BONUS:
A fine fab link to a smattering of work made by my pal Mark Maio of the constructions in question.
The Middling City does not have many things but one thing it does have is a fine assembly of its complicated industrial past.

Love is oso complicated.

This day's blogpost could begin much like the former.
But premierly, a word about dumplings or what Yours Truly is now dubbing puffballs.
Last night I made old-fangled beef stew and decided to, following culinary guidelines, mix up dumplings for the first time. One thing to dig about cooking is gathering some know-how, riffs of sorts, favs, standbys, tricks, avoidances: but the first time with a recipe means following along, usually. So, not ever having made dumplings/puffballs Yours Truly (as is so not my wont) followed rules. And when I got to the part about adding in baking powder YT did some measuring of sorts and then actually became a bit alarmed as the baking powder hit the wet ingredients with the now fizzing concoction resembling the neat baking soda/vinegar science experiment of yore, emulating volcanos. But, adding in some flour, disaster was assuaged. Then the delightful plopping of dough into the magma stew, covering the pot, and then the voilà moment – dumped-up dumplings.
At the Hallwalls opening last night I talked cooking with a few pals who had already discovered the joys, the scientific mystery, of dumplings.
Artist Suzy Lake strolled about, as did about 700 others, down corridors until it was time to gather up the entourage and move along to Prespa for some background techno music, some more hijinx and then onwards into the icy Middling City night.

Onwards, Love.