Oh, my stars and garters!

Boy, am I a dork.

Why am I a dork this time? I am a dork because I wrote a whole post about naked mole rats and neglected to mention that I bought this splendid hand-colored linoleum print earlier this year:

It's by Margie Crisp, a Central Texas artist whose lino cuts of nature scenes blow me away.

I saw this print for sale at Slugfest on the EAST Austin Studio Tour* about five years ago and wanted it so badly but didn't have the scratch for it at the time. Earlier this year I realized I was still kicking myself for not getting it so I e-mailed her this year and hey! She still had it and kindly sold it to me. Check her stuff out.

*Isn't "EAST Austin Studio Tour" a little like "ATM machine"?

Rubber naked mole rat quest, eight years later

Hey, remember the Great Rubber Naked Mole Rat Search of Aught-Four? (Hey, remember when I was really engaged with this blog?) Over the years I have gotten many, many e-mails asking me to duplicate my efforts and find the writer their own replacement. I always gently decline but promise to keep an eye out.

I also got a great e-mail yesterday, which I am posting with permission of the sender because it's touching and funny:

Hi. I recently stumbled across the blog that you made years ago about trying to find the rubber naked mole rat replica, and I thought I should tell you my story, if 7 years later this email still reaches you. My name is Kelsey, and I got one of the rubber naked mole rats from the San Diego Zoo when I was approximately 11 years old, going into the 5th grade. I was moved in the 5th and 6th grade to a very tiny discriminating town in Pennsylvania, and I did not make friends. One day we had the assignment to write a book about an animal, and I brought in the naked mole rat, which I had named Pinky. Out of a joke I made Pinky answer a question for me, and from there that spiraled into the naked mole rat being my best friend for like a year and a half. Yup... I was that kid. I made Pinky talk, took her camping with me, took her in my pocket everywhere.... needless to say I didn't actually make any friends until I moved again...

I kept her for a few years after that commemorably awkward phase of my adolescence ended, but eventually in a fit of teenage remorse threw it away. At the age of 20 I actually kind of regret this now. While talking to a rubber toy at the age of 12 does not seem cute in the immediate retrospect, at this point in my life I'm more amused than anything else and I have a girlfriend who thinks it's the most adorable awkward phase ever. I was looking through the internet to buy another one, and I stumbled across your blog. I wanted to know if you ever got any other leads about getting one, it would be greatly appreciated. If not, I hope the story made you smile, and I'm glad you had success all those years ago on your quest.

Thanks, Kelsey! I promised her and I promise you, if I ever see those damn things again I am buying out the entire stock and sending a rubber naked mole rat to anyone who ever asked me about them.

I still have mine, by the way. He's doing fine. He lives on my bookshelf at work, and I love him as much as ever.

Freedom of choice

In ancient Rome there was a poem about a dog who found 18 bones.

She picked up one.

She licked another.

She went in circles.

'Til she dropped dead!

The dog goes through a lot of chew toys. Nothing in the world is better than a brand-new bone or squeaky toy, but the novelty wears off quickly. We've found if we hide the corpses of the old ones for a few weeks and bring them out again we can rekindle a little bit of interest.

Never thought to take them all out at once, though. That was pretty exciting for our little pal.

Also, why is Devo so good?

Yard of Glory

I do enjoy a little Sousa this time of year. This is in Austin over by Northwest Pool on Daugherty Street; you kind of can't miss it.