tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-135244642024-03-07T00:26:38.099-07:00Sally CruikshankUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger936125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-77435569329325800192015-09-11T14:17:00.002-06:002015-09-11T15:44:27.360-06:00My web site vanished!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week someone wrote me that my website, funonmars.com, was down. I was surprised, went to check and saw this message.<br />
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Suspended? But I paid a few years in advance. Then I checked the web hosting site, which I've been using for more than ten years, and it too was suspended. <br />
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Yikes! Then I came to this blog thinking I'd write about what happened, (after ignoring the blog for two years), and it looked weird too, because all the Flash files that surrounded it, which I coded furiously to put in place, are vanished in the cloud that was.... Although I still have most of the files, it would be a crazy venture to try to put it back together again. I grabbed the generic files to make it look like a blog again.<br />
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Losing this website makes me sad, and made me think back on all the changes it went through. I started my own site around 1997- a long time ago on the internet. At first I just used the free space earthlink allowed. Small file size was key, so I came up with a design that I thought would work to carry a story via gifs, the only animation format that seemed available then.<br />
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Starbucks was just getting going on its colonization of neighborhoods, and I decided to tell the story of two gal pals, Anita and Whinsey (a horse) as they met over burned brew at Charbucks. By keeping them in a frame, and sitting at a counter, the file size was small.<br />
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Above was a little JavaScript game where you could mouse over the cups to change their colors, but it was hard to get all five with the same color. (and it no longer works- don't bother.)<br />
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Later I retold it in a Flash version. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2F1Af7nx0Y">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2F1Af7nx0Y</a><br />
Oh and do I love youtube? NO! Almost 3 million views of my videos, not even $250 paid back. But that's another story.<br />
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It played on a conspiracy theory that Charbucks workers were being brainwashed and kept in the basement.<br />
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I had little napkins which when you rolled over them contained handwritten messages.<br />
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I put together this part of the story in a Flash video too, but those videos never caught the goofiness of the original gifs I thought.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiU7jjXfg1Q">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiU7jjXfg1Q</a><br />
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I tried multiple endings:<br />
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Gradually I fell into the code world and taught myself much too much about code. I just loved the idea of making my animation interactive. First I learned JavaScript, by taking examples on the web and switching out my images or my variables. I didn't know what I was doing but I learned a lot! . But the trouble with the digital world, one of many!- is that things become obsolete so fast, code systems that worked in earlier browsers crash in contemporary browsers. I really wish I'd done more screen shots at the time.<br />
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In 1999 someone named sada/exposada in the Netherlands invited me to beta test a program which could create animation from jpegs and gifs. I managed to get my two girls, Anita and Whinsey, on board the Titanic 2, part of a story idea I'd had since the 1970's. I built an extensive story with a pictorial map you could follow to get from episode to episode. The entire story comes up as a blank page in the Wayback Machine. aah!<br />
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Every one of the images in the map linked to a separate episode.<br />
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You can't imagine how extensive this website was. I used Beatnik music- another obsolete format.<br />
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(I don't hear the music, Big Fish!)</div>
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I tried another code system where scripted clipping would create animation- I'd explain it more but what's the point- it doesn't work anymore either. <br />
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As I look through the vast amounts of work I put into the site it is pretty depressing. I went through a creative explosion when I was first working on this site, thrilled by the possibilities of interactive animation and free publishing. If you wonder what I was doing in the 2000s it was experimenting with interactive animation and working on my Charbucks site.<br />
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Maybe I'll write about Flash in another post. I feel about it the way some people feel about ex partners. "Why did I waste all that time?" Enough for now.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-23443408707602288312013-03-20T15:43:00.001-06:002013-03-20T15:43:30.028-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1ipDIJYqooXU9JRlQKNxjYFB4Yi3heuekL-gzoBj09wiTjwHWtmCHXzof41dGYZ1XySmfFfAEMT9MJt6HJ16_Wn910aoyfwQpApmd3W57fMV05JqtCoH_BMEH5pHu9psy0AU/s1600/kane.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1ipDIJYqooXU9JRlQKNxjYFB4Yi3heuekL-gzoBj09wiTjwHWtmCHXzof41dGYZ1XySmfFfAEMT9MJt6HJ16_Wn910aoyfwQpApmd3W57fMV05JqtCoH_BMEH5pHu9psy0AU/s320/kane.png" width="239" /></a></div>
I painted eight illustrations of contemporary fashion a few months ago. They're coming out in a fashion magazine called Hot & Cool, in the UK tomorrow. I've listed the originals on <a href="http://tinyurl.com/c6984vy">etsy</a> just now: Take a look. This one's a dress by Christopher Kane.<br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-51259544805102796652012-07-08T13:19:00.001-06:002012-07-08T13:24:08.754-06:00Animation Jam<br />
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<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;">Andrea Edwards, an animation student at Vancouver Film School, made this cute drawing of "my world" as part of an assignment. I liked it so much I made a painting based on it.</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJoMYFs4naFpmblHu7FBdZDTYVGRD92tGo4nL15j6Oape8osWwCR7edOzWsN1BF3BcHGHOktYg6TBMcj4VmDpES-gWGqcB3C-A0baVCK3TKpaACCWcLerWXeOKScx4_BB71TLZ/s1600/version1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJoMYFs4naFpmblHu7FBdZDTYVGRD92tGo4nL15j6Oape8osWwCR7edOzWsN1BF3BcHGHOktYg6TBMcj4VmDpES-gWGqcB3C-A0baVCK3TKpaACCWcLerWXeOKScx4_BB71TLZ/s320/version1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I really liked the pants suit in the drawing but didn't catch the flair of it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeazMiF3dxXZaWDFOI_XQg9IZ3zRk5O3tzic72JtvQZXjQRi4BkGmhDmSARn7DnsW3zQSft58Tt5xIES8HMDnuJMcW-JQFljSxS-Xeu5TPBP6o2GPQbORDGDvCaxYcDZEBWep/s1600/version2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeazMiF3dxXZaWDFOI_XQg9IZ3zRk5O3tzic72JtvQZXjQRi4BkGmhDmSARn7DnsW3zQSft58Tt5xIES8HMDnuJMcW-JQFljSxS-Xeu5TPBP6o2GPQbORDGDvCaxYcDZEBWep/s320/version2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Then I painted it a second time, larger. Forgot to make it a pants suit. If you click on the pictures you'll be able to see them better. The hardest part was painting my German Shepherd Molly- you'd think that would be the easiest!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-66936483667773037622012-04-06T19:47:00.002-06:002012-04-06T19:50:40.613-06:00Buy My Art!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhyoLflxNhpiGsFdwVcBxqFmfRRXq2xwJWkk2hAPU-ikG5cMaufHik-gH-g7ka7uMxvO7EM0TPVsoLedFNMtSbKjp-Om_0cligPRjUaLHrq8Efa9eOt3gmFGEqiTcMNHRKSQm/s1600/crustacean-and-gal.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 390px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhyoLflxNhpiGsFdwVcBxqFmfRRXq2xwJWkk2hAPU-ikG5cMaufHik-gH-g7ka7uMxvO7EM0TPVsoLedFNMtSbKjp-Om_0cligPRjUaLHrq8Efa9eOt3gmFGEqiTcMNHRKSQm/s400/crustacean-and-gal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728469830110332322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've set up shop at etsy,<a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/funonmars"> http://www.etsy.com/shop/funonmars</a> and am adding new pictures frequently, so please stop by. Sorry, no refreshments!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-17560945323609729652012-01-31T12:57:00.004-07:002012-01-31T13:10:48.315-07:00If I were free<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0p5gALR6fulU0ZX-B-nzWfs_kp-_2uFOBGUoK7GV7v2M40KgFOsJ3ETDQbCKp_7ThPtKvGAJUbM4p3hbCNd34-cC-ZlSYt5dXTYo6Wno82MzGniH87llBSV7dA7dP8rOMEgY-/s1600/example.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 385px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0p5gALR6fulU0ZX-B-nzWfs_kp-_2uFOBGUoK7GV7v2M40KgFOsJ3ETDQbCKp_7ThPtKvGAJUbM4p3hbCNd34-cC-ZlSYt5dXTYo6Wno82MzGniH87llBSV7dA7dP8rOMEgY-/s400/example.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703889944314454082" border="0" /></a><br />My sister- Carol Cruikshank- was a very talented artist, even from a young age. I scanned one of her sketchbooks and put it up on Flickr- it plays as a slideshow<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com//photos/funonmars/sets/72157629106907167/show/">http://www.flickr.com//photos/funonmars/sets/72157629106907167/show/</a><br />(As long as you keep your mouse away from it the bottom tray of pictures won't show.)<br /><br />She drew this when she was 15 or 16 in a little booklet tied together with yarn. This was in 1957! So many of the ideas are still fresh. She died twenty years ago. Today's her birthday.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-59818797072901946802011-11-29T18:46:00.011-07:002011-11-29T21:36:56.129-07:00Obsolete Formats<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFOfga66JdKaInjhbX-aogrOHEk-6x3y74Fb7qCMtBrQMEKTdGuNs4A7drWxzbKVuyQODRqgB1xfSmt-g91wF98UTYaXgD0UPWKYEkq_EvNWmqqL5dF0C9zo-MKLTSekjvX82/s1600/frog2.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFOfga66JdKaInjhbX-aogrOHEk-6x3y74Fb7qCMtBrQMEKTdGuNs4A7drWxzbKVuyQODRqgB1xfSmt-g91wF98UTYaXgD0UPWKYEkq_EvNWmqqL5dF0C9zo-MKLTSekjvX82/s400/frog2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680642674309752530" /></a><br />We've been printing many of my films in 35mm this last month, for archival reasons, and checking the prints at the Fotokem lab in Burbank, in a screening room.<br /><br />I'm always uncomfortable looking at my own work, but when I saw these prints at Fotokem I was shaken up a bit. Film looks SO GOOD, so totally different from any dvd or digital format. Geez! Animation! Cels! But only a handful of specialty labs are even printing film now, and in the years ahead all the studio releases will be coming out as digital only. (2014 already declared by studios as no film releases anywhere.) So if you have film negs think about printing them now.<br /><br />Although my cartoon "Quasi at the Quackadero" was put on the National Film Registry list of films worthy of preservation, the list comes with no perks as to preservation (or even a piece of paper to frame and put on the wall!) In fact even the link to the pdf which came to me as official notification was a broken link!<br /> Government.<br /><br />Film is the latest obsolete format. wow! The world is becoming so damn virtual.<br /><br />I've often wondered if the monster magnet from outer space really appeared what would happen to our collective culture? Then the Republican candidate I find most unappealing, (though it's hard to narrow that group down),Newt G, mentioned this in some recent debate as a real threat.<br /><br />I'm going to write about my own computer history. I poured so much energy and YEARS into Flash, and before that into some other formats that also scream obsolete format. <br /><br />Stay tuned.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-22521179457998299132011-06-22T12:40:00.003-06:002011-06-22T13:39:16.250-06:00A Colorado Auction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://www.williamsauction.com/gallery/324722/Property%20Photographs/large/1026442_11061858.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 479px;" src="https://www.williamsauction.com/gallery/324722/Property%20Photographs/large/1026442_11061858.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A house down the road has been bank owned for a few years, and yesterday it was up for auction on the premises. So we walked down to see what a foreclosure auction was like.<br /><br />The house looks better than the picture, but it does look like a mobile home, was built about 15 years ago by a scrappy couple who are long gone. The house has two front doors into the same room. ("Don't you be coming through my door bitch.") It sits on five acres with nice views on a steep hill.<br /><br />When we got to the house only a security guy was there with his small dog. He offered us a free pen with the name of his cleaning company on it. After a while a real estate agent pulled up in his Range Rover with a golf theme license plate and a salmon golf theme shirt too. He had been the listing agent till the bank got drastic.<br /><br />Then the auction group rolled in, in one SUV. They had gotten lost on the way. Three guys in white shirts and ties and a hefty blonde gal with a pile of papers. The auctioneer looked like Kenny Rogers with white hair parted in the center, show biz. Then there was a guy with an earpiece who seemed to be wearing a Bill Gates wig. , and a gnarly looking little guy: maybe he'd been a jockey, or in rodeo, or maybe a ventriloquist dummy? He stayed behind the car.<br /><br />They asked us if we were there to bid? I said no we were there for free cookies. When the auctioneer plugged in his amp Jon said, "Is this going to be a square dance?" He said, "That could be arranged."<br /><br />Since there was no one there to bid, it was time to get the auction started. They were allowing on line bidding, with a teaser minimum of $50,000, and warned the folks on line not to push that orange button unless you really mean it. There was no video of the auction, so the auctioneer got started as if he had a big crowd there, "I want to welcome you all, ladies and gentlemen," and rolled into that amazing monologue that auctioneers do.<br /><br />They had one bid for $50,000, on line. Nothing else came in. The house across the street is for sale for a million and a half, also on five acres. Wow. The bank has the right to reject the offer, but it was pretty stark and surprising. They packed up and headed off to their next auction.<br /><br />I haven't posted on this blog in more than a year. I like writing but I didn't like experiencing my life as possible blog material, and there's something uncomfortable (for me) about posting my dear diary life on line. But I thought I'd pop in with this one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-75613832517018362902010-05-24T18:26:00.004-06:002010-05-24T18:34:38.066-06:00Goat Busters!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-UBzoVyccmtrVbK5fMcylPKmBo30br9TmmXUn6agB_oi0Mtt1GzkisgWLHbGbdL9xBnQmntWS9iP5dkwt5h6kcBpcTC4PGCvhm2ZuPUPVE4lPFLMRBSmhiSzOTsG24a93utv/s1600/goatbuster.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-UBzoVyccmtrVbK5fMcylPKmBo30br9TmmXUn6agB_oi0Mtt1GzkisgWLHbGbdL9xBnQmntWS9iP5dkwt5h6kcBpcTC4PGCvhm2ZuPUPVE4lPFLMRBSmhiSzOTsG24a93utv/s400/goatbuster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474997745304242690" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We flew up to Sacramento to see Dinah at Davis- loved seeing her stable too with horse Tia getting in shape after her colic surgery earlier this year and the goats as uncontrollable as ever.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TtwpNmQAOSwDAysc29kSzgfPbeaZbALskCnv91aY2euq4s2rJDP8853zvSpzblJMGEJZvY09a8C7_tLZaM7fz6YvtTN28ehOUjUSKscbVKR0l96g-qsO9ypFqVml1Kb1PXlC/s1600/davis.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TtwpNmQAOSwDAysc29kSzgfPbeaZbALskCnv91aY2euq4s2rJDP8853zvSpzblJMGEJZvY09a8C7_tLZaM7fz6YvtTN28ehOUjUSKscbVKR0l96g-qsO9ypFqVml1Kb1PXlC/s400/davis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474998317341037650" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Dinah's heading to Peru this summer on an Amazon research trip. We're headed to Colorado in the morning. Happy Birthday to all my friends whose birthdays fall in May (the majority of friends my whole life.)<br /><br />(I just realized the title won't make sense to anyone who doesn't remember the tag line to Ghost Busters)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-67113175738385202362010-05-17T18:20:00.007-06:002010-05-17T18:58:14.664-06:00Food in Italy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGk5r3h_VUsr8wONHdSYFIIRtU0pHJhKad2jfsXvRflU4LIFdMNdfMPGjtGDPE1mkFXEehBbSc5zFXR_qqQ81fSPJhLfAbD-_IV4OILegcEaDYQacnlsYj4iahstOGVtu14Cob/s1600/it_0116.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGk5r3h_VUsr8wONHdSYFIIRtU0pHJhKad2jfsXvRflU4LIFdMNdfMPGjtGDPE1mkFXEehBbSc5zFXR_qqQ81fSPJhLfAbD-_IV4OILegcEaDYQacnlsYj4iahstOGVtu14Cob/s400/it_0116.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472398526210476786" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Can you believe I asked Jon to take this picture but didn't go inside? "No, no", I said, "I just like to look." It's true: I love to look at nicely displayed bakeries and candy stores, especially when they use shiny printed tin or cellophane. Some of the tarts in this display have wild strawberries on them! Paradiso!<br /><br />But what was I thinking "just looking"? Everyone talks about Italian food so what I say won't matter. I could never get past course two so never had any desserts. Heartbreak.<br /><br />The last night in Florence I went into a really pricey chocolate store and ordered a very small custom box of filled chocolates, two of each, thinking if I liked the taste I'd share it with Jon. NO SHARE! I didn't eat them till I got home and they were exquisite. One had champagne inside that dribbled right down my chin. Another had an apricot inside with the pit still inside the apricot. I wish I could go back and buy one of everything in the store just for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-bhskC6rSy1MgzJ0SKrHQN3xhBDC5HtimdP4fWHtxzP0UpJMd64XeTY7mmstSrWOyY1f3PxDj_gDNmAdlgltaiX9OXCbweEXmiuo4FwSxTkLhyBwhGF38FpdcebUpUhETQ2e/s1600/it_0211.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-bhskC6rSy1MgzJ0SKrHQN3xhBDC5HtimdP4fWHtxzP0UpJMd64XeTY7mmstSrWOyY1f3PxDj_gDNmAdlgltaiX9OXCbweEXmiuo4FwSxTkLhyBwhGF38FpdcebUpUhETQ2e/s400/it_0211.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472398551740391442" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These were ravioli. They made me feel like I was really small because they were such giant tubes, in a walled Medieval city. They were really good, just fennel and leek but they probably snuck some animal thing in there because they even serve salami at breakfast in the hotels we stayed in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0VNsLR4aYg4j-9HkoLD-FZF5DCGIaw_f1CABSrqMTUdnmFy9iKavoYRx4aAzh5-oislwLREOExFZUpuBHLW9w1zdaHy6zYBL6Ravxw1XDl3jAGWR7o2cd_EfGhsK5XBZNgu2/s1600/it_0118.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0VNsLR4aYg4j-9HkoLD-FZF5DCGIaw_f1CABSrqMTUdnmFy9iKavoYRx4aAzh5-oislwLREOExFZUpuBHLW9w1zdaHy6zYBL6Ravxw1XDl3jAGWR7o2cd_EfGhsK5XBZNgu2/s400/it_0118.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472398540290882482" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Such pretty lettuce. We went to a great farmer's market in Genoa for more "just looking." Genoa is a nifty place to visit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-V3hvokuLD14p_ph2XXSatR15gHc5ME9O1cp82YuQDSsAFAeLYyd83ioZDZeYkGu68eX2ksGy5DTMzgqSarWhiJLVH_L_RU0B9l8RGcWhHkpkhmH3gmijsHGgeaVJ_d79k-p/s1600/it_0013.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-V3hvokuLD14p_ph2XXSatR15gHc5ME9O1cp82YuQDSsAFAeLYyd83ioZDZeYkGu68eX2ksGy5DTMzgqSarWhiJLVH_L_RU0B9l8RGcWhHkpkhmH3gmijsHGgeaVJ_d79k-p/s400/it_0013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472398525134617650" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Our last night in Rome we were sent to a restaurant by the hotel, (and that's not a good idea. There's some kind of kick back going on.) We were served this artistic starter, which was filled with a wonderful artichoke mousse, but then my main course, sea bass first shown to me on a big platter before anything had been done to it, (John the B?) was sea bass with cheese sauce which didn't seem very Italian and was a bit creepy.<br /><br />Blogger seems to have a limit on pictures to post. I was an experimental eater in Italy: whatever sounded weird but within my range I'd order. Why not? After a very weird sea food pasta Jon stuck to tomato sauce. I think the dishes he ordered were probably tastier, but now I know what not to order!<br /><br />The regional thing is sometimes claustrophobic but sometimes terrific. Anywhere in Lucca where you ordered bruschetta it came with gloppy chicken liver topping. EUW! In Genoa a wonderful artichoke quiche like thing was on all menus. (no spiky chokes.)<br /><br />Loved that all our hotels served blood orange juice for breakfast, even if sometimes it seemed to be cut with Kool-Aid. Campari Orange is a wondrous drink in Rome and comes with a grilled cheese sandwich whether you want one or not.<br /><br />Truly disgusting that horse is on the menu but they don't provide translation. Figured it out too late or would have definitely boycotted a restaurant in Rome where we had lunch twice.<br /><br />So how's that for the uninformed traveler passing through one of the most elegant gastronomic areas in the whole entire world?<br /><br />Worst meal? Pizza! Right outside the Vatican!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-46746859503137901712010-05-14T13:30:00.004-06:002010-05-14T13:45:52.836-06:00Fashion Statement<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftxcCJfmwj5BVPOMYt86AJ3Y4EVTwCwCqXxDYU1M8Z3uB09NiJTe4TPC5MHPAbxa0HRqhs6q9et-dyXmijP1YZCIfDfJ9DjgoTgfIs26t1h5ebVBIjsPH_sXm4c_73Y5fRxzn/s1600/fashion.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftxcCJfmwj5BVPOMYt86AJ3Y4EVTwCwCqXxDYU1M8Z3uB09NiJTe4TPC5MHPAbxa0HRqhs6q9et-dyXmijP1YZCIfDfJ9DjgoTgfIs26t1h5ebVBIjsPH_sXm4c_73Y5fRxzn/s400/fashion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471211502088194658" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The oddest fashion we saw our entire trip to Italy was at the very outset, in New York. We wandered into a very popular "French" bistro in Soho, Balthazar. The food was good and the room was filled with good looking people, many of them waiting for tables. We sat at a tray sized table next to the bar.<br /><br />"Waiter, there's a fanny in my soup!"<br /><br />A blonde walked up to the bar with her friends and ordered a drink. Do you know what tulle is? That stiff fabric ballerinas wear that you can see right through?<br /><br />This gal was wearing a beige tulle skirt cut all different lengths and sticking out in all directions. It had big GASHES cut in the back of the skirt. I think she was wearing a thong under it, but I didn't check.<br /><br />Her rear end was almost on our table. I mean I could have poked her with my fork. On the top she was wearing a shawl made out of burlap, the fabric potato bags used to be made of. Her friends all looked stylin. She kept clutching at her shawl but honey that wasn't covering the part that needed covering.<br /><br />It really looked like an outfit from a classic bad dream but she made the choice to wear it, and we had to look at it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-19899316279605028932010-05-13T10:24:00.005-06:002010-05-13T11:43:43.734-06:00The Dogs of Italy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nmX9WLH6KI0Y_ySOjiQabWqlUQkFASGNv2Cbgtt7zR1HtXdDpEP1OiuX8Y86YG9PfYjGdJHkZ-8v3LtcwJ1DrMd-OgCvDUFZSWpcZlvDoxQBCnqqDj8tBRigec8R_wQYWTGm/s1600/it_0197.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nmX9WLH6KI0Y_ySOjiQabWqlUQkFASGNv2Cbgtt7zR1HtXdDpEP1OiuX8Y86YG9PfYjGdJHkZ-8v3LtcwJ1DrMd-OgCvDUFZSWpcZlvDoxQBCnqqDj8tBRigec8R_wQYWTGm/s400/it_0197.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470804901872245698" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeGQAWJiSXC-XLeQFcxkJCA4q9AiiUqQE0F4Ks_9e7x7p3mf5GWt7-dEdLQNnEJJukaA3mt_O7kxD1i463zesKan08HyFdxpTc2NmSa6y6CxOBMc3c2hzJhZamC4tAqL08M2H/s1600/it_0239.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeGQAWJiSXC-XLeQFcxkJCA4q9AiiUqQE0F4Ks_9e7x7p3mf5GWt7-dEdLQNnEJJukaA3mt_O7kxD1i463zesKan08HyFdxpTc2NmSa6y6CxOBMc3c2hzJhZamC4tAqL08M2H/s400/it_0239.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470804916181209570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When I saw how welcome dogs are in restaurants and hotels, I was sorry we hadn't considered bringing Molly along. But not sure I could deal with a dog's jet lag as well as my own. "Sally, It's 2 am! Time for our walk!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuw_kAr6hXYlHur8X9H89OitEZIXwPNSdGPb-qKkepBAc_lSgBTAx45g36tfejbwKYK7kWOHIta1uIn_8W-lR4JTSP9AolBXRsBBbJcFUJrXN1xm11Rtv9YJq59Q0XGojk24ib/s1600/it_0252.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuw_kAr6hXYlHur8X9H89OitEZIXwPNSdGPb-qKkepBAc_lSgBTAx45g36tfejbwKYK7kWOHIta1uIn_8W-lR4JTSP9AolBXRsBBbJcFUJrXN1xm11Rtv9YJq59Q0XGojk24ib/s400/it_0252.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470804920302186210" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This ancient Roman dog is making the same gesture Molly makes when we're driving in the car and she sees a dog on the street. Dogs have been helping humans back to the earliest days and many artists honored them. This was in the Etruscan Museum in Rome. Now when Jon and I are driving in the car and we see a dog, we make the gesture too.<br /><br />Most of the dogs in Italian art look like Italian greyhounds. Surprise!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Gq_t5CvuaTEsvYpzYQj48EQUFUld8CjQ-i-1A4sovQnboa_Zyjf4I7i60CcTvfkL2LxzSchxZE14LH6OL-1KD9YXsH81-KLDzPItVcxiqJ6_UIPaIfiOJMX26QobBnaZpF0i/s1600/it_0103.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Gq_t5CvuaTEsvYpzYQj48EQUFUld8CjQ-i-1A4sovQnboa_Zyjf4I7i60CcTvfkL2LxzSchxZE14LH6OL-1KD9YXsH81-KLDzPItVcxiqJ6_UIPaIfiOJMX26QobBnaZpF0i/s400/it_0103.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470804892153748242" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This old dog lived in the Cinqueterre on the Italian Riviera.<br /><br />I'm surprised dogs don't smoke cigarettes in Italy. Everyone else does.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-75523713466062296972010-05-12T18:45:00.003-06:002010-05-12T18:54:19.376-06:00In the Cave<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgeOUFvwnXC9rjE5l40aB2hs6bs2FFau7MAzHlBwZEKnQjUN9SLmq2bNV06QS-AJE9lSpdSlF8fL4BU_vJo3dkY1cF46LuWjR4UdHTCe8selhEClU2hhE5tq9LpQYrmVrj0TT/s1600/cave.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgeOUFvwnXC9rjE5l40aB2hs6bs2FFau7MAzHlBwZEKnQjUN9SLmq2bNV06QS-AJE9lSpdSlF8fL4BU_vJo3dkY1cF46LuWjR4UdHTCe8selhEClU2hhE5tq9LpQYrmVrj0TT/s400/cave.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470550759786935522" border="0" /></a><br />You see so many pictures of Jesus in Italy that it gets on your nerves, even if you did study medieval art for 3 semesters. We needed something else. We were staying at a goofy hotel in Lucca where the three guys at the desk seemed to be Manny, Moe and Jack.<br /><br />Anyway, I found there was a cave tour somewhere in the mountains and we took a drive, first to the beach at Montereggio, then up a road of many switchbacks to Grotta del Vento, not too far from Castelnuova. When the metal door slammed behind us on the cave tour, I wondered if my claustrophobia was going to kick in, but I remained at ease, and was so surprised by how the cave looked like the inside of someone's stomach. It was wet and oozing.<br /><br />I've been really wiped out since our return. This morning I woke up suddenly when the bagel in my dream had a baby alligator stuck in the cream cheese. It was not quite 4 am. I meant to blog an orderly trip through Italy but that may never happen.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-3359929947216078942010-05-08T09:12:00.008-06:002010-05-08T10:03:26.757-06:00Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv78kea57wBgCQCfEV9u5tYWgrawr6Ub5PvNLVtQqnaWhbB-MbBIXTER2hvUjxVnmsvM3x8QOxmxqTXQhK90tw1nJpDi_cGBn3t3hkt2bj180PzMTwYzhOvUhI4ljxlYhqCqF_/s1600/it_0276.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv78kea57wBgCQCfEV9u5tYWgrawr6Ub5PvNLVtQqnaWhbB-MbBIXTER2hvUjxVnmsvM3x8QOxmxqTXQhK90tw1nJpDi_cGBn3t3hkt2bj180PzMTwYzhOvUhI4ljxlYhqCqF_/s400/it_0276.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468917425427662482" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jon took this lovely picture in the courtyard of the National Etruscan Museum, in the Villa Giulia part of the Villa Borghese Gardens. Gone were the miserable shuffling hordes at the Vatican Museum, (which Jon described as the tenth circle of hell though Dante only knew 9!)<br /><br />This museum was peaceful, nearly empty, and full of wonderful art by the Etruscans, an early Italian civilization about which much is not known, even now. They even had an alphabet that's never been decoded.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwGVH_pjywNJnHno0c_-amDVY3TWHrx7ga98rOKzO3-E5P1wK2Lvd8LUDphu0MnvwsbAAPATlsfZGejX1J9aCxuK8asmrkrTQTIe9B0-B5n3Ydw5eijaXnnZLcQe6sykryj0d/s1600/it_0251.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwGVH_pjywNJnHno0c_-amDVY3TWHrx7ga98rOKzO3-E5P1wK2Lvd8LUDphu0MnvwsbAAPATlsfZGejX1J9aCxuK8asmrkrTQTIe9B0-B5n3Ydw5eijaXnnZLcQe6sykryj0d/s400/it_0251.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468919102455101298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6p7FS7AsOAayn1FwRpKnnQs7rqaNcpSQzmLyUDKtc5rbe-lSH_1YFG3av2BiR_Bp-nEjQT4V8R977Y4-um6ujMh_RJsqJRV36j_o4lNm0L6GZx1sJ8yTQl7MN_PueWd370aLU/s1600/it_0248.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6p7FS7AsOAayn1FwRpKnnQs7rqaNcpSQzmLyUDKtc5rbe-lSH_1YFG3av2BiR_Bp-nEjQT4V8R977Y4-um6ujMh_RJsqJRV36j_o4lNm0L6GZx1sJ8yTQl7MN_PueWd370aLU/s400/it_0248.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468918897344106818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeumTqipWqGJMtcGCBShuhVTFZogAPfA8IPdM5strm_XqjDRQ_3NiAsobQYii15pWpgFIEWgko-TSzgdHv20tVKsXS0RJODWl8WX6ldruk9rYfwZoKHbrHmB1WbKt5VWUIGrUJ/s1600/it_0250.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeumTqipWqGJMtcGCBShuhVTFZogAPfA8IPdM5strm_XqjDRQ_3NiAsobQYii15pWpgFIEWgko-TSzgdHv20tVKsXS0RJODWl8WX6ldruk9rYfwZoKHbrHmB1WbKt5VWUIGrUJ/s400/it_0250.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468917858994160930" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The image below is the style of art they're best known for.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHX7Rj1fguYbqA6_EQFSwdhLmR2ZqZqB1NhTIsvfqm2SfedEfWu5iL6P1stHWu-IF8vUe6BsiF5EEtnSSHlZPqenkfUkVUQxsCT6U9dfA9fR_TuX06sdwko4SUO-R9FpnIod20/s1600/it_0256.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHX7Rj1fguYbqA6_EQFSwdhLmR2ZqZqB1NhTIsvfqm2SfedEfWu5iL6P1stHWu-IF8vUe6BsiF5EEtnSSHlZPqenkfUkVUQxsCT6U9dfA9fR_TuX06sdwko4SUO-R9FpnIod20/s400/it_0256.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468924968533208050" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Beautiful sensitivity to horse and riders' poses.<br /><br />I called my mother the morning I got back and the S.S. Dementia had docked. "I'm in London," she said. "Where are you?" She was upset I hadn't gone to London to meet up with her and sounded very agitated.<br /><br />This morning she didn't sound agitated, but she answered by saying, "Have you heard the terrible news?" "No, what?" thinking uh oh.<br /><br />"The beads are missing, and everyone's in an uproar. Without the beads the race can't be run.<br />People have looked for them everywhere. They've even called in the FBI."<br /><br />"It's like some cheap mystery novel" she added.<br /><br />She had to get off the phone because she was off to New York, but she'd call me when she got there, around noon. I'll be at the races then, hmm, maybe I'm a suspect. I do have some goofy beads I sometimes wear to the racetrack . But don't tell anyone! Don't tell the FBI!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-36502083745418144442010-05-07T05:41:00.008-06:002010-05-07T06:03:30.156-06:00Veni Vidi Vici<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4S7CR6g9NBaUF57tjdXSzCWV0oym_4zKrezQSslW6SP9d1gWxAbxkfhcyKEhWf8dukBXi1f0tMjZblpTzKjjr3ufgTaNTAQ3ZSovwD4WIDG5ggjlGLjXCU0iyoVga3AQvNfW/s1600/it_0249.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4S7CR6g9NBaUF57tjdXSzCWV0oym_4zKrezQSslW6SP9d1gWxAbxkfhcyKEhWf8dukBXi1f0tMjZblpTzKjjr3ufgTaNTAQ3ZSovwD4WIDG5ggjlGLjXCU0iyoVga3AQvNfW/s400/it_0249.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468491965979112402" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In our house in Northridge, above the ice machine, there's a special feature pointed out to us when we bought the house long ago. It's a slide projector shelf set up so you can show slides of your travels when guests come for dinner, while they're still stuck at the table.<br /><br />The Power Point presentation of its day.<br /><br />"Hey, why's everyone leaving so soon?"<br /><br />Faced with 600+ pictures from our trip to Italy I hope I have the good sense not to pull out the slide projector here on the blog.<br /><br />We saw some great art, really great art, first in New York at the Frick and the Metropolitan, and then of course in Italy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsgr8aR2Ukx7eKo7izKbmaAP5F8Ygt_5TUKIFh8jH3ODD8mK66hsLskexMh9LW8NGG7MFzWqtVTIzuNLdGZlTVrdKAv_7CmHjznK3Xno_mo91mSs4RIOrD5IffHmfPWejT320/s1600/it_0302.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsgr8aR2Ukx7eKo7izKbmaAP5F8Ygt_5TUKIFh8jH3ODD8mK66hsLskexMh9LW8NGG7MFzWqtVTIzuNLdGZlTVrdKAv_7CmHjznK3Xno_mo91mSs4RIOrD5IffHmfPWejT320/s400/it_0302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468491969639787906" border="0" /></a><br />This parrot painting was in New York.<br /><br />In Italy there are way too many paintings of John the Baptist's head on a platter. People, please! Or of Judith doing the same thing to Holofernes. Why did artists think this was something they should paint?<br /><br />The platter paintings were especially awful because the whole concept of Italian eating in restaurants is based on course after course, platter after platter, and they never let you start with dessert so we never reached that course.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GvlQnqTOIpttUP4wTUFVZ8AC6_KxaqfDuJM2KY8Pk-faH8BHIKMRXyRq3YmP14GDnGyad9m0cThb2l99EDQw0-qcryxbyMRfMyR4HUwwZNb86-5bb4km52ijv0OZiHJVf7uy/s1600/it_0315.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GvlQnqTOIpttUP4wTUFVZ8AC6_KxaqfDuJM2KY8Pk-faH8BHIKMRXyRq3YmP14GDnGyad9m0cThb2l99EDQw0-qcryxbyMRfMyR4HUwwZNb86-5bb4km52ijv0OZiHJVf7uy/s400/it_0315.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468495599888883266" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This was the only dessert we ordered during the trip, and it was at an obnoxious restaurant in NYC on the lower east side. The waiter was a bully and we only ordered this so called "Baked Alaska" because they seemed to have an "eat it or beat it" policy in effect and we wanted to yell at our friends a little longer. It wasn't really Baked Alaska which is meringue baked around ice cream but they can get away with calling it that because they're so hip and the restaurant is so noisy no one would hear you if you complained anyway.<br /><br />The first picture is an Etruscan sculpture. More on Etruscan art later. No, you can't get up from the table. Sorry.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-56146184677244898242010-05-05T16:29:00.004-06:002010-05-05T16:36:51.568-06:00feelin like a zombie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeAXOqdL5dYTKKh2gDI0OjKLkQSkOAM8qUvLP-4wEmQkMlI5EDc_L9M8ARWJEbDmJA6eX5x8oPkbw33BqjIjhDsm4ubUcU7BU-h7AGZA2ZdDRj_Eww_ckO9TzkwCGSzKoBJR5/s1600/sign.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTeAXOqdL5dYTKKh2gDI0OjKLkQSkOAM8qUvLP-4wEmQkMlI5EDc_L9M8ARWJEbDmJA6eX5x8oPkbw33BqjIjhDsm4ubUcU7BU-h7AGZA2ZdDRj_Eww_ckO9TzkwCGSzKoBJR5/s400/sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467916878872801298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBomr9rbCpKeEi0ADk07XNpJJprn1K0k0nMOPyJ8Peg5I8gKqqZSNwXOiSgS2AUvMW7eivNwp5y6L-QOK7jfTXh4YosrQMcNPj4eOaBehC72s6h3TcbNFGxFqeKn55-kA4Fsz/s1600/pagoda.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBomr9rbCpKeEi0ADk07XNpJJprn1K0k0nMOPyJ8Peg5I8gKqqZSNwXOiSgS2AUvMW7eivNwp5y6L-QOK7jfTXh4YosrQMcNPj4eOaBehC72s6h3TcbNFGxFqeKn55-kA4Fsz/s400/pagoda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467917029729469554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Back from 3 weeks in Italy-- in L.A. and it's nice to be home. Molly's here too. I'm in a "don't operate heavy machinery" state of mind but couldn't resist posting that first sign.<br /><br />We had a great trip and it really helped that I suffered through several years of Latin in junior high as language wasn't really a problem.<br /><br />Just one story. We were really, really lost as we pulled into Nervi, and the highway exit was up so high it felt like the Wild Mouse ride at Wildwood, New Jersey. Jon said, "Go in that grocery store and buy a map." So I walk into the store, stand in line, and then in pidgin Italian I say, "I sell map of city."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-46558773679481106342010-04-12T11:10:00.006-06:002010-04-12T12:57:31.622-06:00CIAO!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZ23fdiyDcczBpbNC8E5cxj-ACVinBdXPBNiENtDVpypqi7HJXyIraRb2IgPBVqNv_vcgvbCzzc-BGwyBEHnXp3sZP2slMfp4Vv3xPo1XROZ6L_9Nyt6-CcZxPZmgKMv0tprt/s1600/t38.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZ23fdiyDcczBpbNC8E5cxj-ACVinBdXPBNiENtDVpypqi7HJXyIraRb2IgPBVqNv_vcgvbCzzc-BGwyBEHnXp3sZP2slMfp4Vv3xPo1XROZ6L_9Nyt6-CcZxPZmgKMv0tprt/s400/t38.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459326103941798722" border="0" /></a><br />So the day is finally almost here. We leave for New York in the morning and then for Italy on Friday.<br /><br />We have to take Molly to the kennel this afternoon. She senses something's up. It's a nice place where she's staying, but it's the hardest thing about traveling for us.<br /><br />I posted a silly storyboard for my section of Toons x 9<a href="http://www.funonmars.com/toons.html"> here</a>. The illustration above is from the storyboard. Just something to keep you laughing. It was a peculiar project- 9 animators retelling Faust. <br /><br />I opted for a soap opera approach to hell- at the time airlines weren't as nasty as they are now and computers weren't part of most people's lives. I didn't ever color it in and got rushed to even scan this and put it on line. I never saw what any of the other animators did. In fact I don't even know who they were. Marv Newland (Bambi Meets Godzilla) paid us to do it. Faust is no treat to read, let me tell you! The link is slow to load even though I broke it into segments, and you'll see a white screen before the loading symbol kicks in.<br /><br />One more thing about the toons project. Aloosha was based on a woman I met the last time I was in New York, 22 years ago! Her name was Lizzie Borden and she was a filmmaker who hoped we'd collaborate on something. She had that "I work out all day" look. I forget if she was a kleptomaniac or not!<br /><br />I had insane good luck at the track last week and will buy a new tablet computer when I get back, and I guarantee no way in hell will it be a Mac.<br /><br />Don't even get me started on Steve Job's arrogance re Flash, when you can read it in the <a href="http://tinyurl.com/ydc6b7t">paper </a>anyway!<br /><br />Have fun while I'm away, and hope to check up on you all from an internet cafe in Italy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-62397548767653149222010-04-04T15:42:00.004-06:002010-04-04T16:01:09.620-06:00For a Laugh<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMajywdhRgor0nriO0D3zSxrRWmPInwItD22AZ7w6BqcOVrJQxtAQ370WWJvTeblOuhyphenhyphenn53QXWNXXecFmMhyGcN-o1FKhKyS-pWdnMraq-Kg6XfBRF6QE1b-9hc6DglGshbol/s1600/main-title.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMajywdhRgor0nriO0D3zSxrRWmPInwItD22AZ7w6BqcOVrJQxtAQ370WWJvTeblOuhyphenhyphenn53QXWNXXecFmMhyGcN-o1FKhKyS-pWdnMraq-Kg6XfBRF6QE1b-9hc6DglGshbol/s400/main-title.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456401151132343922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After I posted this little cult outfit on Facebook I tried to find the original storyboards for the animated/live action feature which I wrote in 1982. It seemed all that was left were some beat up xeroxes, but after I'd scanned a bunch of them I found the original four volumes of pictures.<br /><br />I've popped them into a little presentation which is on line <a href="http://www.funonmars.com/ltmyc.html">here</a>. A few of the storyboard pages were in full page comic strip format so when I separated the individual panels I had to blow up the images quite a bit.<br /><br />Let me know if it's hard to navigate- I was feeling a bit lazy when I put it together. It's just the first act or so but there's some funny stuff going on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-42473070902041566102010-04-01T19:17:00.001-06:002010-04-01T19:19:11.121-06:00boodatude: yesterrific post tonight by boodatude <a href="http://boodatude.blogspot.com/2010/04/magic-bloggers.html">here</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-31574472577244746882010-03-30T18:53:00.004-06:002010-03-30T19:00:54.134-06:00Cool artists wherever you look: Cindy Hunt!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mightybabayaga.com/images/clouds2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 422px;" src="http://www.mightybabayaga.com/images/clouds2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /> <span style="font-size:78%;"> copyright Cindy Hunt</span><br />I got a friendly email out of the blue from Cindy Hunt, and took a look at her <a href="http://www.barnyardblunder.blogspot.com/">blog</a> and her <a href="http://www.mightybabayaga.com/">artwork</a> and thought they were both intriguing and delightful, so here's an introduction. She lives in L.A. This picture is cut paper- ow- never felt that safe around exactos! There are so many talented women blogging and creating interesting artwork- the world has no idea!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-64504579990503613062010-03-28T18:04:00.003-06:002010-03-28T18:20:13.281-06:00Peach and Blessing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KK6fjfEmITZ9hu4U-dp3XlmBtfYi3tiQoWv1hmSLJLueKuiL5yqlSNit2trKQCt54ddMeggzrYDgeudEMCqiGGordbO_mM4tMpfymwc70w4O3GX4geIOuGj4dqHZRPFRs0Ah/s1600/dove_0004.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 370px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KK6fjfEmITZ9hu4U-dp3XlmBtfYi3tiQoWv1hmSLJLueKuiL5yqlSNit2trKQCt54ddMeggzrYDgeudEMCqiGGordbO_mM4tMpfymwc70w4O3GX4geIOuGj4dqHZRPFRs0Ah/s400/dove_0004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453843950412751458" border="0" /></a><br />I've decided, reluctantly, to find new homes for my birds, and it hasn't been an easy decision. First I posted on a pigeon forum, and got some weird responses there, none of which really worked out.<br /><br />So I took the craigslist step. The first week, just offering the least desirable set of birds, I got a flurry of emails from a guy who could barely spell and didn't seem to know where Hollywood was, much less Northridge. When I suggested a specific place and time to meet up he panicked, "not so fast!". Like we were going on a date or something.<br /><br />So I waited a week and posted today. Here's one of the responses:<br /><br /><div style="font-size: 10pt; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"> <div>HELLO ! IS BIRDS STILL AVALIABLE ? I CAN PICK UP TOMMOROW MORNING & OFFER YOUR CHOICE SODAS THESE FOR MY RETIRE DAD HE HAD BIG AVAIRY IN BACK YARD IF STILL AVALIBLE PLEASE CALL 714-***-**** CELL. THANK MUCH.</div> <div> </div> <div>PEACH & BLESSING<br /><br /><span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;">BENNY</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">the soda part really stopped me. But sounds like a nice guy and I wish him much peach.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">another one:</span></span><br /><br />hi<br />call me at<br />818<br />***-****<br />t-u<br />Yair<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">that one was formatted at extreme right of email in tiny letters.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyway, later today a woman contacted me and I could hear birds in the background. She said birds are her hobby </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">and she would possibly take them all. She's going to contact me tonight or tomorrow. She sounded really nice.</span></span> </div> <div style="font-family: courier new;"> </div> <div><br /></div></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-13335790968922712092010-03-26T12:37:00.003-06:002010-03-26T12:51:09.592-06:00Her Inner Rin Tin Tin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9H6gHYXXdVCgd30iyU9GkW_4d-AAy-P74eNwTQhWcmOD-fW9ZAcRfbh8yomnFB9EPMxo8vgfrDPFI_wFtIQsA09XKGOCYC8XwRXRwq6gAvE2TIL7je43yq0CVuvrXN6lKuZd-/s1600/moll.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9H6gHYXXdVCgd30iyU9GkW_4d-AAy-P74eNwTQhWcmOD-fW9ZAcRfbh8yomnFB9EPMxo8vgfrDPFI_wFtIQsA09XKGOCYC8XwRXRwq6gAvE2TIL7je43yq0CVuvrXN6lKuZd-/s400/moll.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453013627289477234" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When I was walking Molly this morning I came upon a trainer and his student. He was a boxing trainer and they were exchanging fake blows and doing the boxing dance in the grass. Molly did NOT like this at all. Her parents are both working police dogs.<br /><br />I could barely pull her past these two guys. She wasn't growling but she was really concerned, as if she felt somebody needed to step in and handle this disorderly situation. "Woof, I mean What seems to be the problem here?"<br /><br />I got a new camera, Sony's latest Cyber-shot, and am trying to make sense of it. It seems easier to understand than other Sony's I've had and dropped. It actually has a pet setting! That's what I used for this photo. No idea what it's doing for pets. It also has a smile detector.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-9022207538094372912010-03-22T16:03:00.003-06:002010-03-22T16:27:26.655-06:00The very bad not good Granny (not my mom)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEget7iybfQjhDe-XOeGMs9Xd7xmBPDg-eXMnbT8QbVzFwg_rhy33N02A-m2XFz7SONzIZRpJM2QWCfZMJ_ZCNw06dnM7ZEza_TnYvLyZAWIXzkysKFJBYx3g1Stt13KhTqfDTmt/s1600-h/toney.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEget7iybfQjhDe-XOeGMs9Xd7xmBPDg-eXMnbT8QbVzFwg_rhy33N02A-m2XFz7SONzIZRpJM2QWCfZMJ_ZCNw06dnM7ZEza_TnYvLyZAWIXzkysKFJBYx3g1Stt13KhTqfDTmt/s400/toney.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451582482165243906" border="0" /></a><br />I went to visit my mother this weekend, aka "fun in the nuthouse". <br />As I came through the glass door on Friday morning, Toney, pictured above, was poised very still by the door waiting for her big moment. <br /><br />The door was open and she ran out. Shouts of "TONEY!" and I turned to run after her but the same nurses aides called out, "Don't chase her, she's dangerous!" as they rushed past me.<br /><br />Toney is 100 years old. She stands very straight and has a full goofy white haircut which you can see I could never get right in my sketches. She was RUNNING- she's 100 years old but she was running, and she jumped on the bus parked at the entrance. When the nurse's aide jumped on to catch her, Tony ripped off the aide's top "exposing her to the world", and scratched the aide too. She told her, "You have an evil heart and God will never forgive you."<br /><br />Woah! No wonder my mother's one of their favorites. They say Toney is wearing a bracelet which locks the doors when she gets near them but she's figured out how to stand just out of lockdown range and then break out when someone opens the door unsuspectingly. She's 100 years old! She moves like an athlete.<br /><br />As for my mother, her trip continues, but now it's sometimes by rail. We were in Florida on Friday and in England on Saturday. In England I was trying out for a stage role, but she didn't think I'd get the part. Something about not being forceful enough, and she wondered why I was dressed like I was Chinese. ? She carries on a monologue that's filled with curious details and funny comments, but I had the feeling I could have been there or not, for all the real impression it made on her: "so grand that you could come, taa taa". <br /><br />When the 300 plus pounder nurse's aide waddled in to the small room where we were hanging, she said, "It's my husband!" My father was tall and slender and looked like Abraham Lincoln.<br /><br />It was stuff that was funny but when it's your mom it isn't so funny. And there were all the other patients which I could have fun describing but I'll leave it alone. I only knew how to spell Toney's name because they've posted a sign for her on another door telling her to turn back (before it's too late?)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-60158788810917285702010-03-08T14:41:00.002-07:002010-03-08T14:43:32.760-07:00Gone FishingI'm taking a break from the blog. I'm traveling to see my mother in a week, and getting ready for a trip to Italy in April and return to Colorado in May. I don't have a laptop at present and am a little worn out from blogging for so long. "And then I wrote". So turning it off but not shutting it down.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-57667519404019746062010-02-27T19:13:00.005-07:002010-02-27T19:22:49.076-07:00No More Mr. Hot Stuff?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK1Bd3DGOuhxA7gqFHtFjsOxfT7KQF6LDwOeYmHaEiP5SrqjM3bBhgGrXLrVYxEHy4LTiKAds36C9fDZHcFqqZx37PWlBIwkixLJ83REPDClqXTMj679nyWjfjj69FXS0o0zW/s1600-h/hot-stuff-ticket.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK1Bd3DGOuhxA7gqFHtFjsOxfT7KQF6LDwOeYmHaEiP5SrqjM3bBhgGrXLrVYxEHy4LTiKAds36C9fDZHcFqqZx37PWlBIwkixLJ83REPDClqXTMj679nyWjfjj69FXS0o0zW/s400/hot-stuff-ticket.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443111781267241762" border="0" /></a><br />I went out to Santa Anita solo yesterday and was on fire as a handicapper. I got the pick 4 which means you pick 4 winners in a row, on an $8 bet. It CAN pay hundreds, sometimes thousands, but in my case it paid $84. That will buy a lot of oranges at the Farmers' Market in the morning. Got a lot of other bets right too. <br /><br />But a horse who's drop dead gorgeous, Mr. Hot Stuff, was running yesterday, and that was actually the reason I went out there. I love this horse's looks, I admit it. He's a sleek well built truly black horse. He hasn't won a race since before the Kentucky Derby and I've bet him to win every time, including in the Derby. He didn't win yesterday either and he still looked like hot stuff. Plus he had my fave jockey, Smokin Joe Talamo on board.<br /><br />But while walking Molly this morning I thought I could turn him into an internet cartoon strip character, with Whinsey, maybe for the phone. We'll see. I "worked" on it all day. Hard to get good expression on a jet black horse. And then when you're working in Flash you start thinking, gee, if this moved it would be more fun than a still comic- and take a lot longer to do. Rainy weather, sometimes I love you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13524464.post-28076486304338539372010-02-25T18:43:00.005-07:002010-02-25T18:58:01.422-07:00prophecy of darkness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUwJcIitmNN_AgH4izUY_yxcU5E5ZnXeCzZgL0j5UFtj5k6A1QZBlRMIwtWds6fccaYroNtLTkftg63ICJXupEHpccIYxZRdL7fnoqB_Hwd6lJUvIZ8BfRx8MFvgN75M_uS9j/s1600-h/dove_0004.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 370px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUwJcIitmNN_AgH4izUY_yxcU5E5ZnXeCzZgL0j5UFtj5k6A1QZBlRMIwtWds6fccaYroNtLTkftg63ICJXupEHpccIYxZRdL7fnoqB_Hwd6lJUvIZ8BfRx8MFvgN75M_uS9j/s400/dove_0004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442362044353493154" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've been trying to find a good home for our aviary of doves, some of whom are almost fifteen years old. I'm especially fond of that light tan dove in the picture, and it's not an easy task for me. But we'll be in Colorado from May to December and not planning on having someone live in the house this time.<br /><br />I thought I'd found a perfect person on a pigeon forum I stumbled upon. Imagine, a pigeon forum. I was a little worried that her email address was prophecy_of_darkness@ but kept up the correspondence. (hope she's not going to eat their little heads off.) I learned you have to watch out for hunting dog trollers if you post on Craigslist because they will indeed do bad things to your birds.<br /><br /><br /><br />So I sent her pictures of the birds. We'd already discussed shipping the birds. She wrote back:<br /><blockquote><div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >Sally,</span></div> <div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >OMG.They're beautiful !!!! I want you to know we will be building an 8ftx8ftx4ft indoor aviary for them,in my bird room(pa winters are far too harsh for them,so they will be indoors,in an aviary-with a very natural appearance).We already have the guy,paid to do it and the plans made,plus some of the stuff bought for it.I will send you pictures of the aviary when it is completed.I hope alls well there,with you.</span></div> <div> </div> <div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >Have a great day.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Then today I get this grim email:</span><br /><br /><div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >Sally,</span></div> <div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >We are having some family issues right now.My father is not doing well(his cancer is advancing-he told me last night),my partner just got diagnosed with RA,(had pain/swelling in her wrists-we assumed was tendonitis,and went to the drs yesterday-he diagnosed her with rhumatoid arthritis)and my partners daughter is having some turmoil with her BF and is moving out and into a rental,and we are trying to help her out.She has a 3yr old son,that is involved,and we are taking her 3 cats in,on top of it all because the only place she could find wont allow her cats-and she did not want to lose them completely.She is not safe to stay with her BF as he is hurting her.</span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >I am very very sorry to have to decline to take the birds,right now.I really wanted to give them a good home.It just would not be the best timing to give them all what they need to feel safe and secure here.My life has just been turned upside down.I hate to go back on my promise to you,I am not like that,and have been struggling with the concept of weather to still take them in or not.When it comes down to it,its whats best for the birds.I would not be being fair to them,if I took them at this point and time.</span></div> <div><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" >I hope you understand,and are not too upset about it.I feel bad for doing this to you.I'm very sorry about this,and I hope you find suitable homes for them.<br /><blockquote><br /><ul style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><li>Sounds so awful but maybe one awful thing too many? Or maybe her email address really was prophetic.</li></ul></blockquote></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span></div></div></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4