I fell in love on the 4th of July. As Sweetie and I were walking to the unicorn house* for to see the fireworks, we passed an antique store (dunno the name, but it's at Republican and Westlake) that was open (unlike everything else) but had stanchions across the doorway. I was looking into an adjoining window when Sweetie said, "you need to see this". I glanced over, saw an armoire and the stanchions and said, "they're stopping it from getting away" as I moved over to look. He was not talking about the armoire; he was talking about a giant stuffed fake raccoon that was staring at me with 8" diameter button eyes. I promptly named her Danielle Coonie and have been figuring out what enormous piece of furniture to get rid of so I have room for a 4' x 6' x 4' fake raccoon. There was a post-it note on her side that said "NO PLAY". I promised her that I would rescue her and replace the note with one that said "PLAY". I also offered to make a howdah, so the cats could ride Danielle in style. She is amazing. If I had one of those fancy-pants camera phones, you could see her and share my love. If you happen to be at Outdoor and More or the new Uptown Espresso across the street, go see her magnificence for yourself.
*"the unicorn house" does not, in fact, have unicorns. The name comes from a generally ignored scene in the movie Dodgeball, when we learn that a seemingly normal person in fact lives with 10,000 unicorns around her home, with the simple explanation, "what? I like unicorns". The secret weirdness of hte character immediately reminded us both of our lovely hostess with the very mostess, and ever since we've had to restrain ourselves from showering her with unwanted unicorns. This is probably the kind of thing that makes sense to no one else. Sweetie and I give nicknames to pretty much everyone and everything we know, and often confuse people when we use those names as standards in public conversation.
If you need something to do over the next couple of weekends, I recommend a visit to Circus Contraption, with a few minor reservations. First, let me say that the entire second half of the show is amazing and wonderful and often jaw-droppingly cool, well worth the $20. The first half has a few troubles with its theme, and a ringmaster who is more like the narrator from Our Town than I could wish. Plus they're trying to get a pile of money to take their show to NYC; he's not very comfortable with the begging. The band is tremendously great, and has this awesome combination of creepy carnival with bluegrass with Portisheadesque opera--poke around on the website link and you can download songs from their earlier shows. The whole show is a pleasing spectacle, complete with creepy musical fetuses in jars and curvy girls doing amazing things with their muscles and a rope.
And hurrah for Sweetie--he got the promotion/new job thing he wanted. He's now a PM (Program Manager) instead of an AM (Account Manager), which I think is funny but nobody else does. Coincidentally, the stock price took a big fat jump today, so it's like the market is giving its approval. How nice of Wall Street. I think he's pretty great, too.