Is this a good thing?

I (David) recently heard about houses becoming the popular new designer commodity, with Martha Stewart leading the brand name-recognition trend. This got me curious as to what the author and fellow 'American dream' nay-sayer, James Kunstler, might have to say on the matter. Had he not already commented on the subject, I had planned to bring it to his attention and ask for some prose in exchange. But apparently he was already aware of it. (Scroll down to March 6th.) I was hoping for a bit more commentary on the whole designer/brand name aspect of real estate, but I still enjoyed the more generalized attack on ostentatious land developers:

Obviously these clowns are whistling past the graveyard as the air audibly hisses out of the housing bubble, and the very appearance of these fatuous reassurances in America's chief enabling organ of popular delusion ought to be a signal to the still-alert out there to run shrieking for safety.

Home spun

We have been patiently waiting since our wedding day in expectation of a hand crafted gift promised to us by Aunt Pat and Uncle David. Aunt Pat is a talented weaver and had decided that she wanted to make a table runner for us as a wedding gift. David and I were able to pick the pattern we wanted from a book she shared with us during an overnight stay at their cabin in Three Lakes, Wisconsin at the tail end of our honeymoon. She also introduced us to the yarn she had chosen to use. Here is some of the story she shared with us. "The dark cotton is not dyed. It grows that way, in Peru - it was sacred to the Incas - the children found mummified on the tops of mountains wore garments of this cotton under their alpaca robes - the Spaniards banned the cultivation of this cotton (it has a short fiber and isn't easily spun on mechanical spinners) but some stubborn natives grew it in out-of-the-way places for their own use. Because is has not been dyed or chemically treated in any way, it has a wonderful, soft 'hand' and just gets softer and darker with each washing. So, don't put it in a box and keep it for special occasions - or the Inca will haunt you!" Don't worry Aunt Pat, we have proudly displayed your work of art on our dining room table for all to see and enjoy!

March 7th

A few updates: My (David's) neck pain was diagnosed as tendonitis; most likely the result of accordion playing... Last night Matt and I went to the Sibley Bike Depot. Matt bought a winter beater (to finish the season on) and I scored a cool German coaster brake hub for my next project. The bad news was that the new director confiscated my key. Now I feel a bit naked without my 24 hour security blanket.

Today's date marks two occasions. The first is Dad's (Skelton) birthday. If he had a computer (and connection) he'd be able to read: “Happy Birthday Dad! Heather and I are doing well, and the grandchild is kicking like Pelé.”



The second occasion is your precinct caucus. It's fun; you get to argue with your neighbors and they can't call the cops on you for it. Give it a try!

Memory trigger

I (David) am showing signs of aging. On Friday I had hatched the idea to post the blog entry below. I thought about posting it on Saturday, but decided to put it off until I could get away from the dial-up (a good thing considering how much time was spent trying to find an image on-line that large enough to see. So come Sunday night, I had completely forgotten what it was I had intended to post. In addition to having developed chronic pains, now my memory is going. So then last night, something on the TV triggered the memory of my blog topic. Of course, I can't for the life of me remember what triggered it, but at least I now remember what to write about:

On Friday afternoon, I was assigned the task of picking Heather up so that we could take care of some errands. As I was leaving, I drove past the American Indian magnet school down the street, just as the kids were being let out for the day. Standing on the corner was a waiting parent (or guardian) wearing a jacket with a big MDC patch on the back.




Seeing this took me back to the good old days of growing up in this neighborhood; back when I used to have to try to fall asleep while the music that sort of band created was blasting away in the room next door; and when Brother J. and his cohorts would go on missions to rid the neighborhood of anti-semitic (and other hateful) graffiti. I'm not sure how much credit my brother and crew deserve, but the neighborhood now seems to be exceptionally Nazi-free. Seeing that the good-guy side of that battle has survived here on the East Side makes home that much more of an enjoyable place to be.