BRIDGE(s)WORK

If the Academy of Motion Pictures ever decides to award an Oscar for "Actor with Best Official Website," the winner, hands-down, will be (drum roll, please): Jeff Bridges. I say this not because he is on my short list of favorite actors of all time but because he truly has a quirky, funny, interesting website. You've got to check it out.

Besides being an actor, Bridges is a photographer, sketch artist, sculptor, author, and philanthropist. His website, scrawled in his own handwriting and accompanied by his drawings (including the one above), has the usual filmography, interviews, upcoming appearances, etc., but he also promotes not-so-well-known musicians, as well as his charity, End Hunger Network.

The best part of his website, however, is his "Stuff" link. It has human interest stories (don't miss "Testicle Attack"), oddities, photography, art, (ever seen horses made of driftwood?) well, just lots of "stuff." I found one of the funniest to be "Worst Album Covers Ever." There's also a neat YouTube link to a fantastic acoustic guitar player from Topeka and a golf game link that is addictive. There is so much "stuff," you'll be entertained for hours. Sometimes Bridges includes personal side comments, as though he is writing little tidbits to his best friends, of which I am one, of course. ;)

So, if you're looking for a website that is different, try out this one. Oh, and for my blog readers from Greenwood County, if you've never seen Bridges's old movie Bad Company, you should rent it from your local video store. It was filmed in Severy and in the Flint Hills, so you'll see some mighty familiar territory. And if that doesn't trip your trigger, then try The Fisher King or Star Man or Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. Well, just about any ol' Bridges work will suffice. Happy viewing.

RAINY DAY MEMORIES

Rain has been keeping our basement sump pump in overdrive the past few days. I'm not too keen on all this overly wet weather now that I'm an old fogey, but I used to relish sloshing around the neighborhood after a good "toad strangler"--other than the fact that I had to wear my older brother's hand-me-down galoshes, brown Hoplaong Cassiday clodhoppers, rather than the cutesy white, pink, or yellow numbers that most girls wore.

There were several favorite post-deluge venues around town, and one of them was the practice football field right across the street from my house, that is until a school was built on the land and ruined all our fun. This field had a low spot that typically filled up after a good rain. It was a great place to mingle with croaking frogs, turtles, and crawdads. There were even a few times the water was so deep that inner tubes were required.

Probably the best-known water spot in town, however, was Button Creek. I'm not exactly sure where it started, but I do recall that there were sidewalk bridges running across it from 12th to 4th streets. After a big rain, everyone had to check the creek to see how high the water was, as compared to previous downpours. We'd toss something into the rushing stream, like a small tree branch or a rubber ball, then race like lightning to the next block's bridge, hoping to get there first.

Even in dry seasons, Button Creek was a playground. We'd jump in at 12th Street and then follow the creek bed to 4th, walking underneath the streets in the dark, imagining what danger lay ahead. This must have been what it was like for the great navigators of the world, I was certain. We also used the creek as a place to hide secret messages and to crouch down in as we spied on the "holy rollers" inside an adjacent church. Some of my guy pals once stashed their girlie magazines inside a stone crevice of the creek until a cranky old lady/neighbor discovered their cache and ratted to a parent. Bummer.

I hope the current crop of kids in Fredonia have found their own creative uses for Button Creek like my friends and I did once upon a time. If they haven't, they are missing out on one of life's little treasures.

SHAKE, RATTLE, AND ROLL

Attending my great niece's dance recital over the weekend got me to thinking about the one and only time I took dance lessons--two years ago. My friend the Hippie Goddess persuaded me to join her in taking Intro to Belly Dancing 101 at a retirement home in Eskridge. It sounded intriguing, so my bulging belly and I signed up for about six weeks of basic training.

I wasn't good at it. I could get the hip and foot part okay, but when I tried to add the hand/arm motions, I was sunk. Try as I might, I couldn't coordinate my top half with my bottom half. I looked like a tortured dancing worm. When it got to the point that I could no longer bear to watch myself practicing in front of the full-length mirror at home, I decided it was time to wave the white flag and give it up. No recitals for me, although I did enjoy wearing my royal blue, velvet hip scarf and shaking all the attached booty coins. I still take it out of the closet from time to time to look at it.

I've now decided that clogging lessons would be more to my liking. There is only one position for the arms and hands--hanging at the sides, not moving. I can do that. Cloggers just appear to hop, stomp and skip. I think I can do that, too, although maybe not all at once and maybe not at warp speed, but it's possible. I also have the hair for clogging, so that's a plus, too. Now, if I can just find a pair of size 10 tap shoes and a clog teacher, I'll be set.

I'm leaving the harem behind and headed to Riverdance. See you under the lights!

A STAR IS BORN

Gasoline prices be damned, I drove to Pittsburg today, 240 miles round trip, to see my great niece Madelaine perform in a dance recital. Never mind that I had to sit through 21 other group performances before the 3-4 year old production, "It's All How You Look At It" came on stage. Maddie was terrific and it was worth the wait. I'd never seen her all gussied up and prettified before. She typically prefers being barefooted, dirt and food smudged on her face, with her hair flying behind her, but here she was in her little purple ballet tutu, looking like a princess. At home, she's a wild child dashing about carelessly, but now she was all precision, keeping with the beat of the music, making all the right moves and facial expressions. Incredible. Later she returned to the stage with a smaller group, shaking colorful streamers to "Rainbow in Your Eyes." Bravo! Bravo!

When we got back to my sister's home, I showed Maddie the digital pictures I'd taken of her at the recital. In true fashion, she was more interested in the pictures of my cat Muffin, which were still on the camera from a previous shoot. No longer the dancing diva, she was back to being the funny little girl with the knack for bizarre conversations.

"Hey, Aunt Nancy, what's Miss Muffin do all day long?"
"Oh, she eats, and sleeps, and gives back scratches."

"What does she eat?"
"Science Diet."

"Where does Miss Muffin sleep?"
"Oh, just about any place."

"Does she play with your other cats?"
"No, she doesn't like them very much."

"Does she play with dogs?"
"Nope. She stays inside."

"Hey, Aunt Nancy, can you suck your toes?"
"NO!!!"

"I can suck my toes."

---Ah, Maddie has apparently discovered the key to becoming a successful prima ballerina. Toe sucking. What do you think?

IDLE AMERICAN

Geez--now that American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, The Bachelor, and Survivor have had their big May finales, my list of reality show viewing has, boo-hoo, shrunk considerably. Big Bore is elated--especially after AI's show Wednesday night. He not-so-fondly calls it American Idiot, which I suppose isn't far off the mark. Anyone who watched the two-hour final spectacle (as in ME) just to see the last minute of the show, when the winner was announced, is, well, an idiot?

I justify watching such high drama, however, because I rarely watch daytime TV, other than, of course, Jeopardy!, and I have no other vices like smoking, drinking, and hanging out under street lamps at night, for which Big Bore is most grateful. Thank goodness The Bachelorette, Design Star, Last Comic Standing, and America's Got Talent are getting back into production. Without them, he wouldn't haven't anything to gripe and grumble about, and I certainly don't want his mouth to become idle and lose its edginess. Pass the remote! :)

COLLECTING DIRT, PART II

In follow-up to yesterday's photo blog, here are some gargoyles lurking in my backyard. They are there to ward off evil insects, weeds, and my greatest nemesis, bermuda grass!

COLLECTING DIRT

During the fifteen years I taught King Arthurian literature to high school sophomores, I managed to collect many wizard and gargoyle figurines, which were displayed throughout the classroom during the entire the school year. Once I retired, I didn't have room for most of them inside the house, but I didn't want to stash them in the basement...SO I found places for them outdoors hiding among the flora and fauna, right where they belong. Here are some wizards.