Just visited Dorothy, the personal tress stylist, and tossed these parameters at her: a professional, but you look at me and say Boy, I'd like to be her friend and have a glass of wine with her. Usually I simply toss adjectives at her and she begins cutting. I am happy with these results, of course.
Onwards to more technical matters.
My life is once again changed for the better as today I, after some perusal and online researching, did commit to the Sprint wireless broadband card.
Therefore, and this is gigantic epinw news, I will no longer need to steal wi-fi molecules, wi-squat, and drive in search of these molecules.
This little contraption, that plugs into the laptop on my lap, has its own phone number and is, in essence, a little cellular phone and wherever there is service, there is online working to be done.
Now I am fretting about the bees.
This is not helping, this wireless world in combat with the winged world.
Spoke to a local apiarist at a farmers' market I documented for a client about the bee crisis. How some apiarists are importing bee hives to pollinate.
Mark Twain, ever-quoted, is quoted often regarding this beely matter - to paraphrase: We screw with bees and we humans are a distant memory in five years.
There are still bees.
There are still cell phones and wireless services all over the world.
What do we do.
Thinking of an exhib that Kennedy and I saw in Chicago, a satellite image of all the satellite and space junk surrounding Earth.
There were few empty spaces. How in hell do space shuttles miss all this detritus.
Yet another question for NASA.
I visited NASA once, the one in TX, a fun time.
They had a great cafeteria, every tray had a NASA logo upon it.

I bought some souvenirs, now added to list of missing objects from numerous moves.

Missing in space, Love.
Not love lost in space.

TA RA RA BOOM TE AY!
There were all sorts of plans in the works for a good, old-fashioned Independence Day throwdown in the Middling City.
However, the weather, all rainy and such, has put a literal damper on fuses short and long.
The rooftop party, the in-the-park party, the former outdoor grilling party moved indoors party all lost some of their respective lusters.
Someone the other day, and Yours Truly did not believe this, stated that these days there is only one MC venue for watching pyros in parks - Riverside Park.

* musical sidebar: Let us think now, right now, of Porno for Pyros, Perry Farrell's post-Jane's Addiction ensemble. Short-lived, but ear-worthy. "we'd make great pets" ... yeah!

Gone is the LaSalle Park hoopla where, Brucey and I reminisced today, we, along with a carful of others, watched the LaSalle barrage over the 190, stopped on the shoulder, police telling us via in-car p.a. systems - and other watchers - to move along lest we render our eyebrows short and crinkled.
We were that close, drifting ash from the casings in the air.
Today is the one day of the year that YT wears her Budweiser buddies, quite proudly.
They are fashioned so that when one steps into a wet media the Bud logo is left behind.
So in lieu of standing around a soggy grill YT has been working all day, as has been an occasional tradition.
Last night met out Annie and three of the Deck sibs at Hardware which was not, thankfully, full of live music. We meandered over to Staples where I discovered (although Annie knew the score) that there is oso much more space beyond the dark wood bar - an entire rumpus room stocked with mismatched tables and chairs, a grammar school-type screen, a few odd angles, an assemblage of odd-shaped doors.
Thinking suddenly of training for Iron Girl on Bastille Day: curls (arms, not hair), push-ups (arms, not underwire support), some scales (musical, not weighing), some perusing websites devoted to archiving lyrics, and ankle stretches.
Time to wander away from the laptop, to, as some are wont to say, merge again into the real world.
It is a patriotic, gray, verdant day and night.

Love of all things verdant.

Waiting on the shipment of the t's for the Iron Girl evening that I designed for the 14th, Bastille Day, Annie's B-day Eve.
Came up with concept of Iron Girl with all the eight Solid Gold Booker girls going from bowling to skating to karaoke in honour of the above.
cafepress.com always does a good job, sure there are others but why futz with a good thing.
Next book - Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera. The movie that had us all talking about 1.5 decades or so ago and probably put that Daniel Day Lewis (later of much better Gangs of New York) on the celluloid map. And that adorable little Juliette Binoche I am sure was on the carte française way already.
Spent most of this past Saturday out in Java Center and now before You go and pronounce it all wrong let me save you from exurbian embarrassment and advise that it is jay-vah. So out there photographed a wedding and this is the verysame spot that Yours Truly has documented other weddings, including that of Jen and Jamal.
This couple on Saturday planted an ash tree in honour of their big day and they and then queued-up guests shoveled dirt onto the root ball. As geese silently trundled and pooped nearby.
On the way out of the venue in jay-vah center cut through a building and, as is the wont of YT, found a conference center, a free place to pense and post, if You will.
It was a PC, one of those non-mac cheapass machines that completely baffles a near lifelong Mac user.
And, speaking of such, I want an iPhone.
I bought an early iPod.
They became more memoryful, that's about it.
I want an iPhone to call. I need to check emails but Sprint is holding me hostage and is asking a $400 ransom to be rid of them.
On a non-tech, parallel, not lighter note, saw Dorota, Jason, Brucey last night on the patio of Left Bank, an early outing for summertime frivolities. Little Laura was working and, as chance would have it, had had some testy words with Dorota about said patio and the lack of crowd out there and how we were going to have a few vinos out there. That meant that Laura would not come by the table to say hi to one and all.
Some Middling City madness for You.
As the city is so oonsie-boonsie, this could mean repercussions for generations to come.

Non-repercussional Love
as I speed up NW of TO quick fast in a hurry.