poppydawn

I've got a firepit ... Unfortunately, I live a block from the police station. They might frown on our shantytown.

Of course that's an option! As long as you don't mind dogs, cats, and unruly children. My yard's small, but I doubt if the church across the street would mind if we set up a shantytown in their parking lot.

A little something for art geeks to keep in mind: Art on the Square starts the day after the second St. Louis show. It's a very good time and an excuse to check out Jeff's old stomping grounds.

A wee St. Louis residency! Awesomeness! It's GA, so we'll be having an in-line party. If anyone needs help making St. Louis travel and hotel arrangements, give me a yell.

I'm using Wear a Sweater for Mr. Rogers Day as a motivator to finish the sweater I've been knitting for my daughter since October. I always used to get confused by the resemblance between Lady Elaine and this:

Someone in my knitting group informed me that March 20th is Fred Rogers Day and Mr. McFeely wants everyone to wear a sweater that day.

I don't know.

Because of this style, the blood didn't start circulating in my feet until 1996, a good five years after I stopped cuffing my jeans in that stupid-ass style.

My first car. It was eight years old when I got it, and mine was a hardtop. It also didn't have the eye candy on the trunk.

I think today's kids are coddled a lot more than we were, and therefore less prepared to handle potentially dangerous situations. I'm pretty sure my four-year-old lacks the skills to dodge a sharpened metal spike falling from the sky, but when I was her age ... you dodge or you die!

I'm going to refrain from telling my husband about this because if I do, he'll be PMing you for instructions. My grandparents had a set of Jarts. I remember playing with them with my cousins. I couldn't have been older than 11, which means my cousins would have been six and three.

They were encouraged.

This doesn't surprise me, fissues and all.

That was on the mix CD I listened to when I was in labor with my daughter. One of my friends put together a great mix of songs for the occasion, and now every single one of them makes me sob like a baby.

That's awesome! I love that song. Had we done a more traditional reception, I definitely would have kicked things off with that, too.

These were banned at my school:

Several gallons worth over the course of two nights. That's why we look so relaxed. Elixir Sue and the Dude got to see me drink three cans in very rapid succession after last week's Wilco show. I vaguely recall making some comment that they should make bottled water that tastes like PBR because I'd drink it all the time. Here's a photo of me from last summer that further displays my love of horrible beer (and German pork products): I am nothing but style and klass.

Mr. Poppydawn and me, slightly buzzed at Roberts Western World in Nashville last week:

We didn't have music at our wedding, since we basically got hitched during a Labor Day picnic.

Love!!! And yes, I still have my Little People who look like those. My daughter plays with them when we visit my parents. Me too. I can't wait for Clara Jane to be old enough to get into the Beverly Clearey books, just so I have an excuse to reread them.

Why is that child posing with a gang of gay porn actors? I had a dream last night that Bravo was showing reruns of "Solid Gold". I was a little disappointed when I woke up and realized it wasn't real.

Columbia, MO last September. Street festival on their old stomping grounds. Great set list, incredibly high energy, and just a hell of a lot of fun.

I've been told that I have a pair of ghosts residing in my house. They're supposedly an elderly couple, but since they haven't presented themselves to me, I have no idea how old they are.

I would love to see that! Upon further thought, a few old things in my house: the Duncan-Pfiff couch in my living room was made in 1917. It was the first "real" furniture I bought, from a friend of mine who bought it at auction and kept it for a few years. I also have a 1932 edition of the Fanny Farmer cookbook. I hit an estate sale in my neighborhood today. I know none of the stuff I bought qualifies as the oldest in my house, but it was cool nonetheless: a 1950s tablecloth, a china poppy-print platter (I collect them) and a honey pot shaped like a beehive, in blue.

The house itself was built in 1928. Does that count? I've got a dog who's almost that old in dog-years. Otherwise, I've got quite a few of my grandmother and great-grandmother's table linens and cookbooks, some that go back to the late 1920s. I've picked up Victorian-era stuff at antique shops that I don't have an exact age on. I love old stuff.