A Site of Beef by Ann-S-Thesia
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10/29/2000 - 11/04/2000
11/05/2000 - 11/11/2000
11/12/2000 - 11/18/2000
11/19/2000 - 11/25/2000
11/26/2000 - 12/02/2000
12/03/2000 - 12/09/2000
12/10/2000 - 12/16/2000
12/17/2000 - 12/23/2000
12/24/2000 - 12/30/2000
12/31/2000 - 01/06/2001
01/07/2001 - 01/13/2001
01/14/2001 - 01/20/2001
01/21/2001 - 01/27/2001
01/28/2001 - 02/03/2001
02/04/2001 - 02/10/2001
02/11/2001 - 02/17/2001
02/18/2001 - 02/24/2001
02/25/2001 - 03/03/2001
03/04/2001 - 03/10/2001
03/11/2001 - 03/17/2001
03/18/2001 - 03/24/2001
03/25/2001 - 03/31/2001
04/01/2001 - 04/07/2001
04/08/2001 - 04/14/2001
04/15/2001 - 04/21/2001
04/22/2001 - 04/28/2001
04/29/2001 - 05/05/2001
05/06/2001 - 05/12/2001
05/13/2001 - 05/19/2001
05/20/2001 - 05/26/2001
05/27/2001 - 06/02/2001
06/03/2001 - 06/09/2001
06/10/2001 - 06/16/2001
06/17/2001 - 06/23/2001
06/24/2001 - 06/30/2001
07/01/2001 - 07/07/2001
07/08/2001 - 07/14/2001
07/15/2001 - 07/21/2001
07/22/2001 - 07/28/2001
07/29/2001 - 08/04/2001
08/05/2001 - 08/11/2001
08/12/2001 - 08/18/2001
08/19/2001 - 08/25/2001
08/26/2001 - 09/01/2001
09/02/2001 - 09/08/2001
09/09/2001 - 09/15/2001
09/16/2001 - 09/22/2001
09/23/2001 - 09/29/2001
09/30/2001 - 10/06/2001
10/14/2001 - 10/20/2001
10/21/2001 - 10/27/2001
10/28/2001 - 11/03/2001
11/04/2001 - 11/10/2001
11/11/2001 - 11/17/2001
11/18/2001 - 11/24/2001
11/25/2001 - 12/01/2001
12/02/2001 - 12/08/2001
12/09/2001 - 12/15/2001
12/16/2001 - 12/22/2001

Saturday, November 24, 2001

A couple dreams last night/early this morning:

Dream 1: I was at my parent's house (without Stan) and I was expecting a visit from Tim who was coming with The Beastie Boys (?!?!?! another one of those "why them?" dream appearances). I didn't want to wait for them inside my parent's house, so I went outside and sat down on their front step to wait for them. It was right about the time that the Jr. High School down the street got out, so there were a bunch of Jr. High students milling around outside. A few of they guys started to congregate in front of my parent's house, and they noticed me. My dad was walking in and out of the house wearing the embarrassing clothes he gardens in (straw hat, old pants that are about 40-50 years old [literally...I am not making this up...you think I am exaggerating. I am not]). I sighed and rolled my eyes to point out to those guys that it annoyed me to have my father walking around when I was outside...like it mattered. Then the guys started talking to me...dumb stuff about video games and such. I feigned interest. I also realized that there was another door on the outside of my parent's house that I never noticed before...it was a narrow door that led to the closet inside. I looked at the doorknob and realized that it was very insecure and that someone could pick the lock easily and then get in the house via the closet. I wondered if they even were aware of this, the fanatics that they are about locking up. Then Tim showed up, but not with the Beastie Boys, but instead with a bunch of bitchy sorority-type women and a few snobby sorority guys (don't ask...but I think it's because when I went to college some of the frats had "little sisters" that lived in the frat house even though they weren't in a sorority...I think it was something like that, except reversed). I was relieved Tim was there so that I wouldn't have to talk Jr. High talk to the school guys anymore and so that I wouldn't have to stay at my parent's house, but I also felt sorry for him that he was in the presence of these giggly, bitchy women. They were holding sheets of slides and looking at them, and then filling out forms, like they were reviewing my slides of art. I guess I was auditioning for an exhibit space that they were in charge of on some campus somewhere. I never found out the results though.

Dream 2: I was with Stan and we were looking at a map of what I think was the greater Madison metropolitan area; I specifically remember focussing on the Middleton area. I don't know what we were looking for. Then we were driving around with no doors on the car, and I think we had bought some bare root roses because I remember hanging onto them as we were going around corners so that they wouldn't fall out of the car, but it was very difficult as they seemed to be pracically falling out of the car and I had to hang on really tight. We stopped at a convenience store and some young women (possibly the sorority chicks from the previous dream) were staring at us, wondering why I was hanging onto these roses in plastic bags. Then I remember I was at the (in)humanities building where I had my art studio the 1st three years in grad school. For some reason, there were a couple TA (Graduate Teaching Assistant) women (bitchy ones...all the women are bitchy in these two dreams) in my studio, and I was wondering why they were hanging out there and not their own studios. I entered the space and they stared at me like I didn't belong there. I remember repeating sequences where I was going in and out of the greater studio area, going to the restroom down the hall, going back to the studio area, etc. I remember at one point I saw someone come out of another studio area and I recognized him as someone I went to Jr. High school with. I tried to enter his space and pardoned myself, wondering if he would recognize me. He didn't (which is good, I guess). Then I forgot what I was doing, but it was soon time for Stan to pick me up and I had a whole bunch of stuff spread out that I would have to clean up before he came. I was frantically trying to put stuff away before he showed up because I didn't want him to stay around any longer than needed because of the bitchy TAs. When he appeared he seemed to be wearing strangely colorful clothes (out of character both of us, actually). As we headed down the elevator and were about to leave the building, we heard some weather report that there was some bad weather outside, so Stan decided to go back to my studio with me, except he didn't want to take the elevator back to the 7th floor, he decided to walk back up the stairs. I remember carrying my digital camera and several other things that were hanging off my wrist, and by the time we got to the 3rd floor or so he was really far ahead of me and I couldn't keep up. I was having a really hard time walking up the stairs and was afraid I was going to fall. The stairs were marble and the staircases were more open and majestic, not like the real life (in)humanities building at all (which is an extrememly aesthetically unattractive building, especially for one that houses an art department).
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 10:16 AM || link it email me


Wednesday, November 21, 2001

You know, now that the X-Files' latest season REALLY SUCKS, it's good to know that the whackos in our own country are always making real life interesting, what with the 94 year old woman in Connecticut dying of anthrax. I mean, what an X File! Of course it goes without saying I'd rather have good writers and Fox Mulder back on the show and the country at peace and the weirdest thing in the news being the disappearance of Chandra Levy or a screwed up election in Florida. But darn, this outlying anthrax case is really fascinating...in a sad way of course. It's a case of life imitating art, life imitating the X Files. I had a suspicion from the start that whoever is behind the anthrax letters is a whacko right wing American-born non-Muslim. Many people will disagree on this, in fact, Stan disagrees with me. He still thinks it's terrorist-based. I don't know...I suspected it from the start, and then when they found the letter to Leahy, that really started to cement my opinion. If this was a terrorist-organized attack, I feel it would be more dramatic, more letters to more senators (Republicans, too), more letters period. Bam! Just like 9/11, a total surprise. This really wasn't a surprise...there was lots of talk about anthrax possibillities before the first letter was found. This is more the sign of a lone whacko, almost sort of shy not to send too many letters for fear of getting caught. I think the reporter on MSNBC's name is Dan Abrams (not sure) but as I voiced my opinion about this to Stan one night, he took the words right out of my mouth by saying they're now suspecting it's a domestic-based right-wing terrorist, almost literally word for word. That in itself was rather spooky...when someone on television repeats what you said seconds later.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 2:53 PM || link it email me


Good gawd, I have spent wasted the entire freakin' morning trying to figure out a pricing structure for multiple user licenses on my fonts that I sell through Myfonts.com.

And there was a time about 30 years ago I was known as the smartest kid in math class.

Even though I was good at it, I never pursued it. I mean it's math, right? Math was for nerds, and I was NOT a nerd. Still am not...don't even know what php is ferfreaksake.

Now I can't even balance a checkbook.

I feel like Stimpy. Duuuuh...Ren...how do I subtract these numbers?
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 1:47 PM || link it email me


Creepy dream early this morning. After Stan left for work around 4:45 am, I dozed off back to sleep, except going into dark sleep and then into the bizarro dreamworld where it's obviously a dream, I dozed off directly into a dreamworld where it was initially indistinguishable from the conscious state I was just leaving. I was in my bedroom, lying on the bed. There was a dim light in the room. The covers were off and I was unclothed, however IRL I was under the covers and mostly clothed (over any important areas that is...thighs don't count). There was a fifth window in the bedroom between the high piano window and the window with the glass plant stand. It was about three feet square, and framed with the same wood moulding as the rest of the windows. I was surprised to see a window there that I didn't know about before. As I looked at it, the darkness outside turned into cerulean (sp?) blue-colored curtains, like the color of the tarp on the floor in my studio, in fact, it seemed like it was made of the same material. I assumed that the window didn't really open to the outside, but to a garage on the side of the house (there is no garage on the side of the house there...the neighbor's house is about six feet from the house...our "garage," if you can call it that, is unattached and only large enough for a car from the early part of the last century, or a bunch of paintings as it is presently used to store). The curtains started rustling, and I figured that it was windy outside. Then a face appeared in the window, a peeping tom, a teenage guy about 16 or so, large, pudgy, spectacled and fair haired. When he saw me looking at him, he disappeared, but reappeared in one of the other windows (one of the "real" windows). I woke up with a start, but it took a while for me to realize in reality there was no window open, no peeping tom, I was under the covers, clothed, no light on in the room.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 10:00 AM || link it email me


Tuesday, November 20, 2001

Goatboy returns! Remember the '00s?

Allow me to curmudge.

Yesterday I just happened to turn on the tv during daytime. I feel I must explain this serious digression. I was checking out something on my iBook's external hard drive which I keep downstairs in the living room so I can do other things besides assume a catatonic zombielike mental state in front of the boob tube (oops, I said boob...Google bait). Because the actual work I needed to check out on the iBook would also cause me to assume said zombitude, I decided to turn on the tv to see if there was any BREAKING NEWS. Channel was set in local tv neighborhood from watching Ebert and Dorkboy At The Movies from the night before. I flacked through the stations and came across...ahem...Ricki Lake. Normally I would have just kept going had it not been for the fascinating subject matter...from a sociological study perspective of course.

Bodily Modifications.

Now I have nothing against the nose ring or navel piercing or eyebrow stud. Not for me, thanks, I have two piercings in each lobe that are usually only half-filled unless I'm in public, so I'm not chomping at the bit to get more in this present life, not to mention I ran out of lobe and really don't like piercing cartilege. But if someone else has it done, it hardly bears notice of any kind. However when someone is bodily modifying themself to look like a human/goat hybrid, that's another story. There were at least two people on Ricki's panel who were trying to achieve that capricious (you know, as in Capricorn?) posture. Multiple metal balls on their face, tattooed beard, fake metal moustache inserted through septum, implanted horns. All I could think of are two things:

1) What the hell is wrong with makeup and costumes, guys? Back in my day, when ya wanted to get dressed up, ya wore makeup! It's not a pansy thing! Consider it warpaint! And you can change it for your different battles! See, today you might like to look like the Devil as a Billy Goat, but in a few years you will get tired of it (and trust me, you will get tired of it...just wait) and maybe you'll want to look like an iguana. Instead of those horn implants, you'll want a crest down your back. Instead of the tatooed goat beard you'll want a dewlap and tatooed scales. Then what? You've already spent thousands on the permanency of your first goat job. Are you going to have that all undone again? With makeup and costumes, it comes right off when you're sick of it! You can chnge it each day to match your mood. It's wonderful. I love makeup and costumes.

2) You never had braces did you? Anyone who ever had to endure the pain of a metal mouth at a vulnerable young age is never ever ever wanting any sorts of metallic pokey protrudey things in their mouth messing with their speech (and yes, I can TELL when you have a tongue piercing...don't say the lisp or clicking isn't heard because it IS.)

No, I'm not making judgments on the people who do this...I'm just questioning THEIR judgment. And I'm not questioning their judgement in subject matter or madness (if someone really wants to look like a goat, why would I care? Goats are sort of cute...if I had to have a barnyard animal, it would be a goat), just the method to their madness.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 7:16 PM || link it email me


I dreamt last night I was travelling in a bus. I kept leaving my sweater on various seats, and the seats could be pulled up and things stored inside of them. Once I was worried I left my sweater on a different bus, but then I found it up front. The bus driver was my late major professor from grad school. I remember sitting up front on the dashboard. The front window was huge, and my feet were up against it. I was worried about him driving because if he was dead, he might not be that good a driver and I didn't want to be in an accident where I could easily crash into the window. I remember we were travelling down the streets near my parent's house. We were going to drop in on some friend's house on the other side of Lemay street, but I think the lights were out in their house so we didn't stop.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 8:19 AM || link it email me


Monday, November 19, 2001

Aaargh. Forgot all my dreams last night. I hate it when that happens.

Now that the sunniest room in our house, our bedroom, is being used and isn't just that mysterious closed-off place that served as a storage repository for various Stantools, I have started to replenish my houseplant collection. When we lived in Colorado, we had wonderful houseplants. Moving out to Wisconsin killed a lot of them, not so much the actual move as it was in the summer and it only lasted a few days, but the lack of sunlight in our rental flat and then eventually in our house. Our house is not the sunniest spot on earth. Oh it has a lot of windows...it's an old house...almost 100 years so--frankly, I don't know how people live in those "energy saving" homes that popped up in the 1980s that had about four windows for a three bedroom house. It's just the fact that, well, it's Wisconsin, also not the sunniest spot on earth, and the fact that most of the windows on the house face the north and many of those are shaded by neighbor's trees. But our new bedroom is fortunate in having four windows, two of which get wonderfully bright southeast sun, especially when it's after the leaves have fallen on the trees.

So now my houseplant addiction is in full bloom, or at least full foliage as the case may be. I'm finding that houseplant informational and commercial outlets on the web are few and far between, and rather lame to boot (lots of missing pictures). How I would love an Amazon-styled plant and garden site complete with an associate program.

One plant that refused to die when all our other plants died (it was so sad to lose all our plants from Colorado!) was a Snake Plant. I had that Snake Plant since I was 13. that plant is 27 years old. It's pretty amazing. This past year it was looking rather peaked, so we summered it outside and it came back with a vengeance. It has only bloomed once, and that was in 1988, I believe. The flowers looked and smelled like Hyacinths. It is the only plant we have in the living room right now...the living room is not a good place to have plants, but the Snake Plant, aka Mother-in-Law's tongue, can survive practically anything.

There also have been some plants that Stan has been able to keep alive in our northeast kitchen window for a few years. One is a jade plant that we got back some time in the 90s...forgot exactly when. It is now gigantic...about two feet high and branching out to about that much or more in girth. And then there are the cactuses. Many of them he grew from seed. We summer them outside and sometimes they even flower.

So someone please explain...what is it about men and cactuses? My dad was the same way, being especially proud of a crown of thorns plant. My mom really hated his cactuses because they'd prick her when she was opening up the drapes. I think my mom finally won because when I was out there this fall, I didn't notice many cactuses if any at all. It's sort of a shame...it's one of those times I actually agree with my dad on something...a man should be able to have his cactus collection.

A woman can hover over houseplants, doting on them, watering on them, talking to them, misting them. It's sort of a maternal thing. But a cactus can thrive without that maternal care. It needs the occasional "oh yeah, I better water the cactus...it's been a month" of a guy. Don't get me wrong, I love cactuses too...I'm not like my mom in that regard. But I think it's strange that there's definitely a gender difference with plants, at least in our house. There's "Stan's" plants...the cactii and succulents, and then there's "my" plants...the tropical foliage.

I wonder if anyone else has noticed this gender thing.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 12:04 PM || link it email me


Sunday, November 18, 2001

Disturbingish dream last night. Were visited by someone who we don't want to visit us..."Norm." I remember spreading some cream cheese on bread and making sandwiches and Stan steps in and starts clamping down on the food, asking for money from Norm if he plans on eating our food. Stan was behaving very standoffishly toward him, as he should have. I think Stan was wearing his Goober Halloween costume...maybe he was trying to scare Norm off. I remember it was all very creepy...we didn't know how Norm was going to react.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:53 AM || link it email me


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Copyright 1996-2001 Ann Stretton. All Rights Reserved. No part of this web log may be copied or reproduced, however text may be quoted if a link is given in return. Permission is not given under any circumstances to use any of the graphics or art on this site, however If you ask first, I may grant permission at my discretion. Please check the link above to my Ann-S-Thesia site for web graphics if that is what you need.