Jack Kirby--God Of The Comic Book.

Click pix to embiggen. Totally worth it!

Well, of course everyone who loves comics recognizes the crazed manifestation of the divine known as Jack Kirby as one of the great masters of the form. His ground-breaking work is such an eye-bursting mash-up of wonder, novel composition, and pure corn that decades later it still bears close study. And that's just what it's being given at one of my favorite sites: Hilobrow. Check out their series "Kirb Your Enthusiasm" in which 20+ artists and others each deconstruct a single panel from Kirby's work. Silly, insightful, and hilarious. Then be sure to check out the rest of their site. Enjoy!


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Sequiters? We Don' Need No Steenkin' Sequiters!

We're watching Mirabel and Luciya this weekend while John and Emily are in Seattle having a lovely weekend on their own. Unfortunately, Luciya isn't feeling well. This morning she was up at 4, then 4:30, then finally at 5:30, complaining that her tummy hurts. O. got up and soothed her while I went to get coffee in the cold dark.

When I got back, O. was rubbing L.'s tummy with lotion. Apparently, this helps. I kissed L. on the forehead and told her I was sorry that she was feeling so miserable. She looked up at me with tragic, pain-filled eyes and said: "Grandpa, in the summer, you have to wear short-sleeved shirts."

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Waterfoul!

One thing we love about Boise is the greenery (well, not now, but come spring). It's not called the City of Trees for nothing. In season, the many parks feature broad swathes of vivid green dappled by the shadows of huge old trees of many different species. On a warm, sunny day, the urge to throw one's self on the sod and roll around in ecstasy is almost irresistible. Especially after a long winter.

It is, however, wise to resist that urge, because, as always, the devil is in the detail. The devil in this case being Boise's large year-round population of geese.

They're everywhere, even wandering the industrial park where I work.
At first, their presence is almost magical. Watching a vast gaggle
of them grazing for insects and seeds in the grass, even in the snow,
is a delight, as is hearing the muffled chug of their slow wingbeats
and their comically mournful honking as they slog through the air
just above the treetops.

They waddle through the streets at random, totally unfazed
by traffic, often imposing unintended street closings.
Charming at first, to be sure. Then not so much.

But the real problem is the poop, vast quantities of it everywhere
(like shit through a goose), rendering the sidewalks and the grass
navigable only with the greatest of care.
So forget about rolling on the grass, forget about playing tag or frisbee
or romping with your grandchildren. The parks, while providing
welcoming verdant oases for the eye, offer all the actual appeal
of cavorting in a minefield.

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Kind Of Gamey. But In A Good Way.

Boise has a surprisingly good selection of Asian, Mexican, Eastern European, and Indian markets. This is partly because of its status as an official refugee city. There are significant communities of Somali Bantus, Bosnians, Vietnamese, Iraqis, Indians, Chinese, and of course Latinos, with the restaurants and food shops that offer a taste of home for the pining immigrant. We've been able to find our favorite "Flying Lion Brand" fish sauce, as well as lots of other tasty treats.

Including this piece of deliciousness:

Once you've acquired the taste, you'll never be able to go back to your boring traditional foods again.

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Coping With The Cold.

Being new to dealing with truly frigid weather, we had to stock up on apparel that could get us through an Idaho winter. Of course, we had gloves and sweaters and jackets and wool socks, but we needed more. A lot more. So we hit REI and bought fleece jackets, vests, and thermal underwear (both silk and wool).

We also found some cold weather gear that we as long-time denizens of a subtropical climate zone had no idea even existed:

Fleece-lined waterproof snow boots rated to -48F.

Waterproof, Thinsulate-lined shoes. MMM-toasty.

And my personal favorite: flannel-lined jeans.
Like a cozy flannel blankie for your legs.

So we're prepared for the worst, but so far it has not happened. Other than the big dump in early December, we've seen little snow, and the little we have seen tends not to stick. Temps have been mostly in the high 30s to low 40s, dipping into the high 20s in the early morning. We've had a couple mornings in the teens, but mostly not. This means that the chore of scraping the ice off the windshield is usually minimal. (It's significantly more difficult when the temp is in the teens than it is when we're enjoying a brisk morning in the high 20s or low 30s.)

Most people tell us that this has been a mild winter, but others claim that this pattern has been typical for at least the last ten years. All we know is that it has been quite bearable, far less frigid than we had imagined, especially since we rarely spend a lot of time out in the cold. And it looks like the worst is over: this week we're enjoying bright sunlight and temps in the high 40s, practically balmy. Not that we wouldn't welcome a little heat wave, say 60-70, for a few days, but we're quite thankful that we've avoided the horror that has hammered the Midwest and the East.

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Gone Fishin'.

On Sunday, John, Michael, and I went fishing in the Boise River. I've known Michael for many years. He was the sous chef at Zuni Cafe when John worked there. He followed John to Maui and then to Boise (in a good way.) Now, he manages the apartment building where O. and I live for John.

The day was gray and cold, the temperature hovering just above freezing,
when we arrived at our first fishing spot.

There were lots of waterfowl, but no fish, except for one tiny trout
that Michael hooked.

The setting was beautiful, but the fishing was poor, so we moved on.

Now this is fishing!
The fire's legal, the beers aren't; while the pickup and the
highway bridge lend a certain redneck je ne sais quoi.

A little more scenic looking the other way.
John managed to catch three fish here. Michael caught
one more, and I caught nothing.

Except some lovely images.

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Winter's Bones.

One thing we're really enjoying about the winter here is the stark beauty of the leafless trees.

Our new neighborhood is in the most tree-filled part of

the City of Trees, so there are many of these magnificent
temporary skeletons to admire.

And we're also looking forward to the day that they begin
to regrow spring's flesh.

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John Blows Worms.

And he's proud of it.

Caught in the act.

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Mirabel Turns One!

Our dear, sweet Mirabel turned 1 on January 15.

She is delightful, friendly and utterly accepting. There is something in her countenance and in her eyes that looks at you and takes you in as you are. I want to be like her.

As we get to know her, I believe I have much to learn much from her and her gentle accepting way.

Enjoy this montage of photos put together by her Mom . Happy Birthday Mirabel!

The Sense of Nonsense.

I have always been a big fan of finding the sense in nonsense. Sometimes the accidental collisions of random words create a higher sense than our prosaic daily brain can conjure.

Gnoetry Daily offers tools that PC and Mac users can use to create wonderful semi-random word stews like these:

Brilliant Snuggle bunny,
You are my immoral egoism. You are my happy chastity. You are my earnest snake. You are my many nail.
My academic business wonders your conspiracy.
Yours relentingly,
Shriek

Kind Transformer,
You are my convoluted saint. My conformity crawls your arbitrary oak. My adult objectivity carefully quantifies your patriotic pest. My chimpanzee precludes your excessive organization. You are my silvery pessimism.
Yours engagingly,
Daytime

Sensitive Love,
My authorization guards your nutty depth. My guilty ill disruptively shivers your harmonious clove. My Canadian dinosaur pietistically laughs your television. You are my demented plasma. My capricious chicken disgustedly does your moldy connection.
Yours fatalistically,
Interest

Great Lover,
You are my rotting contaminant. My bold ecstasy tormentedly jilts your fog. My inequality flows your nasty mouse. You are my soft rifle. You are my nutritious behavior.
Yours effortlessly,
Poet

Astonishing Beloved,
My garlic offends your watery monk. My cessation spiritlessly loves your peachy sock. You are my furry jail. My hard flame thrower bawls your clumsy sense. My x-ray inconsistently says your hug.
Yours resignedly,
prettification

I love lines like: "You are my earnest snake," " "You are my silvery pessimism," "You are my soft rifle. You are my nutritious behavior," and "My garlic offends your watery monk." because they are so unexpectedly true.

What are your favorites?

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Save The Date.

It's a relief to finally get it on the calendar, don't you think?.

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Coming To Town.

You better not sass,
You better not scowl,
You better not wrap your head in a towel,
Homeland Security is watching your town.

They're making a list,
They're checking it twice,
They might render you to Eygpt
Put your balls in a vise.
Homeland Security is watching your town.

They know when you've been sleeping,
They know when you're awake,
They stop you when you're traveling
and touch your junk, for goodness sake!

OH, you better not sass,
You better not scowl,
You better not wrap your head in a towel,
Homeland Security is watching your town.

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Change of Address.

Last week, we moved into our new apartment. We thought we would wait until we could afford a place big enough to house all our stuff, but John had a small one-bedroom unit come available in a building he manages downtown, and the location and the price were right.

It's an upstairs, end unit, so when there's sun, it's sunny.

The view from our front window. Small world: the building in the
foreground was Emily's father's first office.

Our living room/office/dining room/media center.

Kitchen and a bit of the bedroom.

Kitchen and living room.

It's compact, but cute, and we are enjoying having our own space with at least a bit of our artwork and kitchen implements. It's amazing how much you can miss a good set of knives.

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300.

Acknowledging our 300th post since this adventure began.

Living Winter.

As Californians, we've never really experienced the day-to-day reality of winter.

So when we woke up on the second day of the great Boise snowstorm

of 2010, we realized that we had to learn a new way of living.

Starting with digging out the car.

So we have to learn how to walk and drive on ice and put up
with bundling and unbundling several times a day,
but there are compensations.

It isn't really bliss, but it is incredibly beautiful.

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More Frozen Turkeys. Parade Edition.

We all decided it would be fun to go to the annual downtown Boise Christmas Parade.

Unfortunately, it was the beginning of the worst snowstorm Boise
has had in quite a few years. Emily managed to get us there intact.

Conditions were sketchy to say the least, but we were all game.

The crowds were sparse, but everyone seemed determined to have a good time.

There were patriotic equestrian displays.

Unicycles with snow tires.

Happy hippies.

A few holiday-addled vatos.

A big skunk.

And, of course, Shriners!
What's a parade without Shriners?

But it wasn't until we saw the reindeer that we really began
to feel the Christmas spirit.

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