Archive for the ‘English language’ Category

On Wisconsin: Pahster Tracks

August 14, 2012
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One small step for the Grey Fox, one giant leap for camping vernacular.

“Pahster Tracks” is the fourth chapter in The Gaytheist Gospel Hour‘s seven part series “On Wisconsin.”

A picnic table is set up behind the Nature Center, and it is outfitted for some serious crafting: buckets of water, plastic cups and spoons, a bag of plaster of paris, dozens of pre-cut sheets of wax paper—all of it in regimented clusters atop a plastic table cloth.  The business of the day here is the manufacture of plaster cast animal tracks, but what is really being created here is a brand new word for the Midwestern camping lexicon.

The Nature Center employee who presides over the activity is a woman in her late-middle age.  She wears an official-looking green polo with the Nature Center logo embroidered like a badge over her heart.  The polo makes it easy to see her as a productive retiree or a go-getter grandma, but the effect is ruined by her photosensitive glasses, which have malfunctioned to complete darkness in the shade of the overhanging canopy. The glasses lend her an odd, subversive anonymity, like an incognito hipster or possibly a criminal. (more…)

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On Wisconsin: Now, Voyager*

August 12, 2012

“Now, Voyager” is the third chapter in The Gaytheist Gospel Hour‘s seven part series “On Wisconsin.”

The beach was the star of our Wisconsin trip, and rightfully so. At the beach, big and beautiful as it is, we reconvene as creatures of nature. Reunited within the womb-warm water cradled by emerald bluffs under a beaming sun, we are children returned to a home we left thousands of years before.  With that redefinition comes a sense of beauty by association, or at least a lubed-up, scantily clad disregard of shame and its attendant psychological fetters. With all due respect to the beauty bacchanal that is the beach, I’m comfortable with shame. I preferred the supporting players of our trip, the ones that typecast me as  not so much a child of the earth as a visitor, agape at its countless possibilities: a visitor whose stretchmarks and body hair is kept safely under wraps. (more…)

Summer Scrapbook 2011

August 29, 2011

Click to magnify the majestic mightiness that is this self aggrandizing landscape photo.

The Summer of 2011 has been a most majestic and mighty season, rife with victory, spiced with bravado.  It is a rump roast sliced from the hind quarters of a noble beast (perhaps a liger), turning on a spit over the fires of glory.  As we savor it, our hearts swell with secondhand triumph made bittersweet by the piquance of sorrow, for despite its lush and verdant beauty, its free-floating firefly constellations at night, the dancing gold of its lakes, ponds, and oceans by day, each succulent bite consumed brings us ever closer to the simultaneous bitch slap/nut punch/horrifying full nelson of winter.

For me, the Summer of 2011 was a barely-averted altercation with a stranger at a camp store.  It was hiking the rocky bluffs at Devil’s Lake in Wisconsin.  It was almost getting my ass kicked at the Am Vet’s Lodge in Higgin’s Lake Michigan. Yet it was so much more. This summer brought the Resurrection of Santa’s Village kiddie amusement park, a jaunt to the Circus World Museum, an encounter with John Muir‘s clock, as well as the Ghost of Peter Falk.

Without a doubt, my particular cut of this delicious creature was rich and rewarding.   I pay tribute to it today in the only way a middle-aged midwestern woman such as myself knows how: in scrapbook format. (more…)

42

April 17, 2011

The number 42 has been bestowed the twinkle of legend, thanks to Douglas Adams; according to his Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, the number represents the “answer to life, the universe, and everything.”  Now that I’m 42, it’s time to spill the beans of wisdom on this, my 42nd blog entry.  The following represents the sum total of 42 years’ worth of cosmic enlightenment…and stuff. (more…)

Renaissance Faire!

August 1, 2010

The Princess and her adoring minion

Sometimes answering the question “What are you doing this weekend?” is a tricky thing.  What I do when I crawl out of my corporate foxhole, (I mean cubicle) is fulfill the Charter of Me, to manifest my will in all ways within the boundaries of the law and physics, to bloom from bonsai to sequoia, to savor the sweetness that comes only from being the boss of the applesauce of one’s day.  So when I’m asked “What are you doing this weekend?” it’s pretty much tantamount to answering the question “Who are you, really?”  While I’m certain I’m not the only one planning on being her own damn self, I’m just not capable of revelations that seem to be expected of me, like “I’m someone who attends local sporting events and endorses the comeback efforts of one Jon Bon Jovi” or “I’m a small but vital component in the economic survival of such retail chains as American Eagle Outfitters and massive capitalist empires as Lettuce Entertain You Enterprises!”   I learned quickly that if you’re not buying something or wearing a Cubs hat this weekend, you are considered hostile opposition to those who do.

So when I said I was going to the Renaissance Faire this weekend, I said I was taking Mabel to the Renaissance Faire.  This means the answer to the question “Who are you, really?” is “I’m a fun mom!” instead of “I’m a complete dork-tard.”  (more…)