Art O'Liscious

We have traditionally reserved the weekend after Labor Day for the St Louis Falcons annual Polish Festival. The super awesome sausage, sauerkraut, pirogi, and pastries are very tasty and very popular. Then we took note of two other now-favorite events, the St Louis Art Fair and Schlafly's Art Outside, both of which seemed to pop up on or around the same weekend. The challenge? How to fit all three events into our schedule. This year, we'll definitely be at the St Louis Art Fair tomorrow morning (This is who I bought a piece from last year). And, I'd love to go to Art Outside tonight. But between the kid's ballet and soccer, I'm not sure that the Polish Festival is going to make the cut.

Soccer Mom

I've always taken the back seat driver approach to other people's motherhood -- butting in with little jewels like, "what do you mean you're not using cloth diapers? shame on you for ruining the environment like that!" "not breastfeeding, what? you want a sickly slow kid?" "nice clothes? crazy! my kid's going organic cotton caveman style until kindergarten." You name it, I could find something to say about it. But, now that I find myself actually walking down that road, I try to watch what I say a little more carefully because I know that it's likely that I'll have to retract some earlier proclamation. So, where is this post going you ask? Well, tonight I attended my 3, almost 4, year old kid's 2nd soccer practice--thereby sucking in the parenting gems about over scheduling kids and spending my hard earned money on plastic team sports (I shudder when I say that!) equipment. I mean, really, who even knew that kids could even play soccer at this age! And, that they'd find 21 girls for a single school team! (Bill says, you can't go to Catholic school in STL and not play soccer. I guess he's right.). So what does this mean for me? Well, I guess it means that, at least until November, I'm a mom with a kid playing soccer. Just please don't call me a soccer mom ..... ugh!

Movie: Saved!

From Amazon.com: "Classic teen comedy mixes with cunning satire in Saved!. Fervent Christian Mary believes God wants her to save her gay boyfriend by sleeping with him. But he gets sent to an anti-gay indoctrination camp while she ends up pregnant--which starts to drive a wedge between Mary and her snotty best friend Hilary Faye. Meanwhile, they're both interested in the son of their Christian school principal. Saved! respects faith but gleefully mocks the excesses and absurdities of contemporary organized religion, particularly its suburban, let's-speak-the-language-of-the-kids manifestations." I recommend!

Something Unexpected in My Inbox

For your viewing pleasure --- A photo of Willa from COCA's "Under the Sea" Summer Camp finale unexpectedly found in COCA's latest email newsletter. Her role, you ask? Hard Coral.

Willa (left) and friends at COCA August 2009

Book Review: The Mistress's Daughter by A.M. Homes

A.M. Homes, at age 31, is contacted by her biological mother's attorney with a simple message - I'm your mother, I want to meet you, contact me. Homes does eventually contact her biological mother as well as her biological father. Unsure of her parents' intentions and her own expectations, Homes asks for nothing more than the information she has grown up without - her history, her culture, her people. But, without warning, Homes finds that her parents', each still very dysfunctional, demand more from her than she can give. Her mother: very needy. Her father: very selfish. It is from this place that Homes must begin her journey of self discovery. My advice: Read only the first part of the memoir (1st Half Rating = A-). If you decide to read it all, don't say you weren't warned (Second Half Rating = D).

Grand and Hartford

Cool sky and sunset looking westward from Grand and Hartford Avenues in South City. Wish that I would have had the good camera that day because this picture does not do the sky justice.

Book Review: The Elie Wiesel Trilogy

A few years ago, a lot of people were exposed to author Elie Wiesel's Night courtesy of Oprah's Book Club. Personally, Oprah annoys me but I cannot deny the positive influence that she has had, especially with the estrogen crowd, in promoting reading. So, between Oprah and your high school History or English teacher, you have probably read Night. For those of you who happen to live in a darkened cave (with internet access!), here's the story--Night is a small novel based on Wiesel's own experiences of having survived the Holocaust as a Jewish teenager from Transylvania. Wiesel's story is bleak and inconceivable. It offers no resolution, no conclusion, no hope. Yet, it is a powerfully important book. If you haven't read it, you must.

In Dawn, the reader meets Elisha who, like Wiesel, also survives the horrors of Auschwitz and Buchenwald as a teenager. Elisha is living in British controlled Palestine when he is recruited by members of the Israeli freedom fighters. He agrees and without much display Elisha carries out his orders. It isn't long before Elisha is given a big job: kill a British prisoner at dawn. As he waits for the execution (or will it happen?), Elisha is forced to confront his past, his present, and his future.

Day is considered the final book of the Wiesel trilogy. Again, Day contains biographical elements from Wiesel's life. A journalist, the main character, steps off the curb and into the path of an oncoming taxi. As he recovers in the hospital he must deal with the same reoccurring themes --- guilt, ghosts, and god -- that are found in his other books.

All of Wiesel's books are short, rich, and thought-provoking. And, who doesn't need a little more of that in their lives? So, go read, read, read......

No. 5, 1948

School started for the teachers on Tuesday. It's still funny to me that I ended up in the teaching profession. If we had crossed paths in college, you would have known that my sole professional goal was to become an art museum curator. So, I got the art history degree and promptly landed my first job in ............ a bookstore. Well, roll the reel forward and here I am starting my 10th year of teaching---history. And, in celebration of 10 big years, I have decided to indulge myself by incorporating as much art history into the curriculum as I can find the time to do. Who knows? Maybe I'll inspire a little Clement Greenberg or Jackson Pollock in my class.

No. 5, 1948, Jackson Pollock
The most expensive painting ever sold at $140 million

CraftaNostra

By day, I'm a wanna be academic and teacher. By night, a frustrated writer/artist/crafter who lacks the time/inspiration/talent. Luckily, for me, and those out there like me, STL has been brewing a pretty decent indie art and crafter scene for the last few years (no doilies here!). And, the shows have never let me down: edgy, original, interesting, quality, affordable artsy craftsy wares. That said, it pains me greatly to say what I'm about to say. But, I have to say it~~what was up with the CraftaNostra craft sale last night? And no disrespect to the ladies and gents of the St. Louis Craft Mafia but there was maybe a third as much stuff as the last couple of sales, most coming from the same crafters who, I'm sorry to say, are putting out the same ol' stuff. I'm gonna have a hard time convincing myself that it's worth the trip next time. My rating? L as in LAME!

Fiddler on the Roof

Last night we had tickets to see The Fiddler on the Roof at the Muny. It was a little questionable as to whether or not the show would go on but after an hour and a half rain delay, it did. As I've eluded to before, I possess hardly any knowledge of musical theatre. So, it comes as no surprise that I knew mostly nothing about Fiddler except maybe that - #1, it's a popular play to see and to produce (I think that my high school drama department actually put this on way back when) and #2, it has something to do with Russian Jews. Turns out that I was right on both accounts (oi vai and mazel tov!). Fiddler was, ironically, a cheerfully entertaining show about the loss of culture and tradition due to uncontrollable external forces. Heavy stuff. It's just so amazing to me that even the most serious of historical and cultural topics can be theatrically interpreted by a catchy song or, in some cases, a catchy song and dance (Miss Saigon, Evita, Hairspray, Chicago, etc.). Maybe we've been counting on the wrong people (politicians, humanitarians, diplomats) to solve our problems (war, dependency on fossil fuels, poverty). Maybe we should have just called Stephen Sondheim.

Book Review: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

Arnold Spirit, Jr. is a 14-year old Spokane Indian living on, as he puts it, the rez. Life on the rez has been stifled by the cycle of booze, poverty, and despair and Arnold realizes that his only hope of escaping it is transferring to the white high school in the next town over. Naturally, a chasm of problems arise for the young teen (conflicts with the larger and tribal communities and his identity namely) but with poignant hilarity Arnold navigates through the tough times of both worlds with maturity, humor, and insight leading to self-discovery. This is supposed to be a teen read, but I highly recommend it.

Book Review: A Wolf at the Table, A Memoir of My Father by Augusten Burroughs

Some of the "Average Joe" negative reviews of A Wolf at the Table that I've read online complain that author Augusten Burroughs' "didn't really know what it was like to be abused" or that Burroughs' mental anguish at the hands of his father's quasi-psychotic unpredictability "was boring, same day in day out" or that "it wasn't funny." Wow. What a bunch of self-centered, whiny turds.

A Wolf at The Table is what it is - a simple memoir of a son who spends a lifetime searching for the love of his father (who happens to be detached, cunning, and mentally ill). Yet, it is powerfully written and evocative. Burroughs' growth and maturity as a writer, the ease at which his writing breathes from the page is most evident in A Wolf at the Table. It compelled me from the start. In fact, I contend that might be the best Burroughs' work to date.

Book Review: Tasting the Sky by Ibtisam Barakat

This past year, there was a student in my 20th Century Studies class who fell horribly behind and failed the second quarter of the course. Mom was upset naturally and wanted to fix the problem---one week before school ended (approximately 3 months after said problem initially occurred). It's a long, ugly story that does not have a happy ending but, instead, a compromise. You read a book, write a paper, and we'll see what happens. Since we were studying immigration during most of the period in question, and later the Arab-Israeli Conflict, I asked Laura, my friend and MRH librarian, to recommend some books about those two experiences. Tasting the Sky was the book that I chose.

Much of what we know about the Arab-Israeli conflict in the US comes from the point of view of the more Western Israelis. But what about the Palestinians? Especially the average, powerless Palestinian? Without assigning or accepting blame, Barakat, who is Palestinian, begins her powerful memoir in Surda, in the West Bank, when, as a teenager, she is detained at a check point by Israeli soldiers. Extremely descriptive and vivid, Tasting the Sky is an important read for several very strong reasons. First, Barakat's writing. I gotta love an author that loves the prepositional phrase as much as I do. Secondly, Tasting the Sky does indeed remind us of the importance of point of view and experience in shaping an individual's reality. And, lastly, Barakat's memories, especially her early childhood ones, sadly reminds us that while war may sometimes seem justifiable, it is always tragic.

Turtle, Turtle, Turtle

If you've driven on Highway 40 in STL City and passed under Tamm Avenue you have probably seen Turtle Park. The park is a kid magnet during the day. And, that's not surprising since it is a cool park. But, my preferred adult visit would include the following two ingredients: a no mosquito early evening and a cooler full of beer. Find a turtle, sit, drink, and watch the sun set as the cars pass by.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Yesterday, Bill called my attention to the new frog in our pond. Our tadpoles had metamorphosed! I wasn't even sure that they were still in the pond, especially after the fish died (long story). I also noticed for the first time that the lily pads in the pond were in bloom too. Grover ruined what I'm sure would have been the most awesome photo ever by scaring away the frog. But, I did get a photo of the new flower. Also, our grapes are in their third year and are finally producing fruit.

Miss Saigon

Every couple of years Miss Saigon runs at The Muny. I'd never been very interested in seeing it because I'm not a huge fan of this kind of musical (i.e. the kind that go from song to song with no actual spoken dialogue like opera--as opposed to say Grease which goes from song to dialogue to song). And, I knew absolutely nothing about Miss Saigon except that it probably had something to do with Vietnam. But, last night, we had free tickets to see it at the Muny and I reluctantly agreed to go.

It turned out to be a beautiful night! The weather was awesome--a cloudy 77 degrees! That almost never happens at The Muny. And the show. Where do I start? Acting = great. Singing = great. Set Design = great. Yet, I was kinda bored. I found myself voluntarily closing my eyes. But, then something happened....I got hooked! The story was awesome--heavy, cruel, wrenching. I started crying last night and I still haven't stopped. It's just so powerful in so many different ways. I want all my 20th Century Studies history students to see this. And you should too. Thanks for the tickets Mom Henske!

Little Mexico on Cherokee Street

If you haven't been to the "Little Mexico" section of Cherokee Street, you're missing some great fun and food. Although it felt like 100 degrees, Bill and I walked the neighborhood the other day. Good smells everywhere! We decided on lunch at one of the taquerias. Bill had a steak burrito and I had a cheese quesadilla with a side of beans and rice-- both were excellent choices. Then we wandered into a Mercado and bought some Mexican goodies-- candies, gum, and a couple of saint candles.

Cheese: The Perfect Food

Wisconsin = Cheese. It's just that way. Like Florida = Sunshine. Like Missouri = Anheuser-Busch (oops! my bad) . Like Utah = Mormons. You get the idea. So no trip to Wisconsin is complete until you've done a couple of things--and two involve cheese. One, you gotta drink Wisconsin beer. It just tastes better in the Badger State. Maybe it's the low humidity and cooler summers that make the beer taste extra clean, crisp, and refreshing (that sounds oddly like a Hamm's commercial). Two, you gotta eat fried cheese curds. I prefer my fatty cheese nodules dipped straight into Ranch but not everyone is as willing as I am to risk sudden cardiac arrest. BTW, cheese curds are best enjoyed with a WI brew. Cuts the fat in half I hear. Third, you gotta stop into a cheese store and buy some hometown cheese. You have your mild cheddar, your medium cheddar, your sharp cheddar. It's a cheddar windfall.

Book Review: Kabul Beauty School by Deborah Rodriguez

Deborah Rodriguez became a beautician, in part, because of her mother but she never intended to make it a career as her mother had. Instead, she hoped that it would be a temporary stint whose financial fruits would help to pay for college. And, it did--even if only for a short time. But two kids and two bad marriages later, she was a college drop-out and a full-time hairdresser in native Michigan. So, to avoid bad marriage #2, Rodriguez signed on with a humanitarian group headed for Kabul. Once she arrives in Afghanistan, she realizes that her skills as a beautician were more valuable to the locals and, especially, foreigners than her ability to bandage a wound or check blood pressure. Rodriguez also realized that a career in beauty was something reasonably acceptable that would tremendously improve the lives of Afghan women. So, she opens the Kabul Beauty School. Of course, there's much more to the story--suspicion, corruption, happiness, abuse, success, terrorists, love, failure, and good old fashioned American bullying--but you had to read it for yourself.

Big Top Chautauqua

On the final night of our trip, we went to see Abigail Washburn and the Sparrow Quartet play at the Lake Superior Big Top Chautauqua. The music was perfect--experimental bluegrass & folk & Mandarin lyrics all in one stop. Amazing. Awesome. Really.