Sisters

 We were once quite the chatty group, and I look back fondly on those days.  The hot cup of coffee as the sun rises, the fresh new screed from one of the dawgs responding to something I had said in the previous post, and examining it to determine how I wanted to respond to it.  Another big gulp of hot joe and the keys were popping.

But those days are gone now and there is nothing to be done about that.  I still check to see if there is something new over the transom every morning.  I still think of you guys.

Not a fan of Christmas cards.  You know the kind where you are on somebody's list and they send you one every year, but then beneath the gooey message inside they just sign their name, oh, maybe they add a "Merry Christmas," or "Happy Holidays" above their names, but you know they are just cranking them out.

But I like the idea.  It's kind of an excuse to get in touch with people without seeming weird about it.  I used to make a Christmas painting every year, and then I would send out a jpg and a little message in an email.  It was kind of nice, but not that nice I guess because I haven't done it in years.

And I thought maybe I could write a post about Christmas, because, you know good will to men and all that, and I would like to have something to kind of cover up my last post which was certainly not my best one.

Well Christmas then.  Beagles actually does go over the river and through the woods to one of those nearby towns where his daughter lives.  Old Dog I think takes himself with something he baked balanced on his knees on the bus to his sister's house.  I used to take the Metra to the north shore, but now I take the elevator to the 35th floor, a more pleasant and shorter ride.

And that got me to thinking of sisters.  I think it was about ten years ago that Old Dog and I began our Ten Cat seminars.  My mother was in a retirement home which later became assisted living and his mother was fading in what I think was the ancestral two or three flat.  We also both had sisters who were the more responsible members of the family with homes presentable for Christmas. 

Beagles does not go to his sister's for Christmas, but he does have a sister who lives in Champaign.  She used to work at the House of Chin and when I met her again years later in the rush of people finding each other on facebook I asked about her brother who I remembered way back from Gage Park High where when all the lemmings streamed out to college he went out to the north woods, and I rather admired him for that, going against the crowd.  And that became The Institute.

I don't think any of us have brothers.  Kind of a good thing I think.  I certainly did not miss an older brother and all those noogies when Mom was not watching.  It would have been ok I guess to have a younger brother who I could give noogies to but who needs him tagging along on my adventures?  Sisters, I think are just about right. 

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That was a nice song but they could have eased up on the background music, a little too loud for me to enjoy her singing.  - March 31, 2022

I consider that high praise from Old Dog who is, well, not known as The Scourge for no reason.

I didn't have enough time to bring this up at the last posting, but googling around I discovered that Irving Berlin wrote Marie.  Well big name, but kind of a tin pan alley/showtunes kind of guy, which is not my kind of guy.

But a jumping spider is my kind of spider.  Something of a fad, no wait, a viral thing I suppose it would be called.  Would never have known about them had I not done a bit of a search when I was painting my Bugs series.  Gotta love the bugs.

Oh and what a swell photo.  With a little photo shopping you could add a screaming Fay Wray and you have the poster and from there the script basically writes itself.

Jumping Spiders go Viral

Showtune and Tin Pan Alley tunester panned by prestigious Beaglestonian philosopher.

Big Time media critic of famed Institute smashes box offices with boffo new horror pic

Maybe this is something we can all agree on.  Saw Seven Samurai Saturday night and liked it a lot.

Studying web design

As for spiders, let me introduce a friend of mine:

Oh, nice.  I've done a lot of reading lately about many things spider related and I recognize that little guy as a jumping spider, a very popular critter these days.  Cute and colorful, what's not to like?

Here's a pic of the latest egg sac that is hatching and you can barely make out the dead fruit fly on the top for scale.  These critters are tiny and I suspect that there is a little cannibalizing going on.

 

And speaking of dead fruit flies here is one of the original orb weavers I grabbed in August enjoying a snack.  You can see the distinctive red eyes of the fruit fly and a little bit of the wings.  The image is a still frame from a video capture; it took her about a half an hour to complete her meal, including a little after dinner grooming.  Not much left of the fly, though, just a little lump that she unceremoniously flung off her leg.

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And if I recall correctly, and I am sure that I will be corrected if I am mistaken, the scourge was rather fond of Drops from the Faucet.

Unless you can cite some proof you may consider yourself corrected.  That song rings no bells, neither does the singer.

I didn't realize the lyrics you quoted were from Marie.  The music is certainly an ear worm for me but all I remember from the words is "Marie, da da da, da da, Marie, da da da, da da...the something-something, yadda yadda yadda..."  Those Irish lads harmonize nicely but I would hardly call their tunes "mopey" but I'm no expert.

Here's another ear worm that I've been enjoying lately from the middle 60s, puts me into a good mood.  The Easybeats on German TV, circa 1967: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIkhWutDecg

 

Waiting on the Nickel Line

 Mopey?   This from the guy who championed Marie, which is a deadly ear worm that infected me for close to a year?  I would be out on a long walk thinking my deep thoughts, perhaps formatting them in a way that my colleagues might find interesting (fat chance) in my next post, when all of a sudden:

And tears, will fall, as you recall
The moon, in all its splendor,
The kiss, so very tender,
The words "will you surrender"

Hard to format those thoughts with that full moon buss in the bushes from that tempestuous Marie of the luscious lips ringing in my ears.

And if I recall correctly, and I am sure that I will be corrected if I am mistaken, the scourge was rather fond of Drops from the Faucet.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QAXmqIdweA.  Oh that horn, the tinkling piano, those dry, sad lyrics, Nanci's phrasing.  It is no wonder the Marie loving mope would enraptured.

Listened to it again, tracked down the writer, found his wiki stub, and from there his funeral stuff.  Studio musician, music teacher, hung with Nanci a bit, had two or three widely spaced albums that I never heard of, lived in Greenwich Village.  Never really made it to the big time, but made a living with music and didn't have to wipe down tables or sell insurance.

Ping-ponged through the internet, like Old Dog with his searching of the blog, and came across this:

I passed a marquee, Third Avenue
"Ramona" with Loretta Young and I swung myself around
And (headed) uptown to the train

Here was a clue to when it was set.  I had been thinking mid-thirties, and the NYT said 1936 and added:

The New York Times praised its use of new Technicolor technology but found the plot "a piece of unadulterated hokum."

Well so much for that.

Well I was going to go on about the Nickel Road, but I guess I have already strayed way too far.

I saw Barbie too.  We showed it in our meeting room which does not have very good acoustics, so I may have missed some parts.  

I was too old for Barbies, which is to say she debuted after my sister's time for dolls.  They had Betsy Wetsy.  Dames, who can figure them?  She was a big hit but underwent severe criticism of the masses at the dawn of the women's movement.  The CEO's tried to make her relevant, like making her a doctor, a lawyer, an astronaut, you know, but still with all the clothes and standing on tip toes for her high heels, and I think the CEO's were roundly criticized for that also.

But time heals all wounds, and I imagine if you had a Barbie in your politically incorrect girlhood, you loved her like girls love a doll, and you just want to see her do good.

It was pretty good movie.  I liked Barbie Land and the Ken's and all that, and the trip to the Real World and kind of twisting stereotypes.  But the last third of it was a lot of speeches about empowerment, but not too much so you don't roll over the oppressed, and oh, all that Hollywood hooey about presenting a powerful message.  But still, I would give it three stars.

As for spiders, let me introduce a friend of mine:

Time flies like an arrow...

...and fruit flies like a banana.  Quite a gap in postings in this tailing edge of 2023 but I've never minded a lack of the give and take that some folks find so enjoyable.  If there is nothing new I often go back in time, even to the beginning of this blog, and read how much has changed.  Go back to any date, pick a post, and start reading.  Maybe you'll trace a thread backward or forward in time but I gotta admit, it's very easy for me to get sucked into the narrative.  There's a lot of life in the blog, even if nothing new is posted but that could be a mental defect on my part.  I enjoy my delusional reality and I'm sticking to it.

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One topic asked, "What's in a name?"  I wonder that myself sometimes and I'm beginning to suspect that names can be very restrictive.  A name can be a good way to share understanding but it can also put the subject in a box; you see the name and think it is only that one thing.  Are those sounds you are listening to Folk Music?  Blues?  Opera?  Boojie-Woojie (ref. to Long John Baldry)?  Noise?  Does the name matter at all and does it affect your pleasure or annoyance at those wave forms hitting your eardrum?  Uncle Ken laments a lack of enthusiasm for his musical suggestions but without being a scourge I will say that his mopey favorites are not my cup of tea.  And the less said, the better.  But getting back to names, I can't think of anything that isn't more than it's name.  It's too easy to label something and never go beyond that label in your thinking; there is more to a Trump supporter than a red baseball cap.

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For the first time in years I went to a cinema and saw an actual movie, a new one, and not something I found on a dubious streaming site.  You guys may have heard of it: Barbie.  I was curious about some of the feedback the film was getting so I checked it out and was pleasantly surprised.  Quite good, I thought, and it really nailed some male stereotypes.  I can see why some of the Bro's were upset with it but they may lack my sophisticated sense or humor.  I took my niece to see it because the local movie house doesn't accept cash and I'm too much of a dinosaur to have a smart phone or use a credit card for such trivial expenditures.  There weren't a lot of guys in the audience (go figure!) but it was funny to hear the guys laughing out loud at times in an otherwise quiet theater.  But there were times when the women were laughing and I had no idea why.  The niece works at an internet marketing firm and said that the guys in her office (lot of 20-somethings) would never consider seeing Barbie; not confident enough in their masculinity, or something like that.

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And fruit flies really like bananas.  Since August I've been involved in a project studying spiders and their webs, learning more than I thought possible.  I keep thinking of the story I remember from grammar school about Robert the Bruce, sitting in a cave being inspired by a spider and then going to victory in one more battle.  Fascinating critters and I can spend a lot of time watching them create and negotiate their webs but they gotta eat and unless something flies into the web they will starve.  That would be hard for me to prove since they can go weeks, sometimes months, without eating.  But not to worry, fruit fly husbandry has become a newly developed skill here at the Geezer Chateau but it is tricky to keep them properly confined.  Fly paper is a definite requirement, glad they still make it.  So far, so good, and I think a few newly hatched spiderlings will make it to puberty.