I don't want to hear any Monday morning bitching

You could have this guy's job.



U.S. Marine Cpl. Brian Knight, of Cincinnati, Ohio, with the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade, 1st Battalion 5th Marines, pauses briefly in the heat to rest with his heavy pack filled with mortar equipment, ammunition, food, and water in the Nawa district in Afghanistan's Helmand province Saturday, July 4, 2009. Taliban militants attacked a U.S. coalition base in eastern Afghanistan on Saturday with an explosives-laden truck that blew up outside the gates, sparking a two-hour gunbattle and killing two American troops, officials said. (AP Photo/David Guttenfelder)

Courtesy of Yahoo! News Photos

And doesn't your day look a whole lot easier, now? Read more!

Foo Fighters play Obama's 4th of July BBQ

Courtesy of The Huffington Post (Don't sue me, Ariana!)

President Obama held a July 4 barbeque on the White House lawn in honor of U.S. troops, hosted by NBC late night host Jimmy Fallon and headlined by the Foo Fighters.

A YouTube user posted three videos from the evening's musical festivities -- the camera is a bit shaky but the audio quality is great. In the second video, the Foo Fighters play a new song, "Wheels." [Nancy: The third is the best. Fireworks!]

Some more details from the scene via The Hill:

Dave Grohl, lead singer and guitarist for the Foo Fighters, grew up in Alexandria and said he used to "sweat his butt off" watching the fireworks on the mall. He said he never thought he'd be performing on a stage just yards from the Oval Office in front of about 1,500 people. [...]

President Obama, in remarks at the beginning of the evening, said the spirit behind the event was to throw a backyard party just like the ones being held across the county. ... "In small towns and big cities, folks are firing up grills, laughing with family and friends, and laying out a blanket in preparation for the big show," Obama said. "They're reliving the simple, unmistakable joys of being an American."








Dave, Taylor, Nate and Chris--I'm so proud of you boys! Read more!

Because I can

These pictures of Chris, Toni and Baby Chris are courtesy of Gabriela Elizabeth Palavecino Villalba on Facebook. I was going to post all 200, but I didn't. Too bad for you.

I could eat this man alive. Or in the case of this picture, both of them.

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We could all use a little...

CuteOverload right about now.

"Kitten in a Wine Glass" seems a good place to start...

Just click on the link and watch your troubles disappear...

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They always go in three's...

Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and now Michael Jackson? The King of Pop, dead of a heart attack at 50? Now THIS will get Ahmedinejad's attention. Everyone knows Off The Wall was his favorite album.

How long until Ahmedinejad declares himself the new King of Pop?!

Although secretly he really dug Invincible. And who can forget his cameo in that dance-off video for "Beat It?" Remember the guy in the white jacket..?

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Columbus Carriage Classic

Dr Chet and one of his trusty driving Fjords, CCC 2008

It's that time again--time to bring out the old-time carriages and the gorgeous horses and ponies (sorry--"very small equines" as they are referred to in the driving field) that pull them. Drivers, men and women alike, get to dress in their finest wool costumes in the heat of summer. What fun!

For pictures of last year's competition, visit my photos at Flickr.

Forgive me if I trade in my wool skirt for cotton shorts. Read more!

Where you can find me

More complaints of late that I have gone underground. I want to assure anyone following this that I am most certainly still above ground. For the last several days, at least, I can be found in one of four specific places:

1. Picking and eating copious amounts of strawberries from my backyard. If there is an overdose mark for eating fresh strawberries, I passed it days ago. Strawberries for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and still enough to give away. Apparently there is at least one plant I cannot kill.

2. Cleaning up my house after my neurotic new Chihuahua. As much as I would like to disprove the rumor that "Chihuahua's don't potty train" so far I have little to refute it. He's lucky he's so fucking cute--and easy to bathe.

3. At the barn. I am finally getting solid leads on new homes for Jack, whom I would love to keep but must re-home as a last-ditch bid to keep my true love, Julian. I have come so close to re-homing Julian that I am spending as much time as I can with him, savoring our time together in case I can't find a way to make it work. My paycheck isn't what it used to be--though I am grateful I still get one--and I can only stretch the numbers so far. When it's come to home or horse, you know you've reached the truly thin ice. And yes, I'm refinancing, but it's not the miracle cure they might have you believe.

4. Going green. I am spending a great deal of time reading Nico Pitney on The Huffington Post in order to more closely follow minute-by-minute updates on the Twitter Revolution in Iran. They didn't just have a rigged election, they had no election. President Ahmadinejad declared victory within hours of the polls closing, which is pretty remarkable given that the millions of votes cast were all handwritten. Apparently Ahmadinejad has some very fast ballot readers at his disposal.

Now the conflict has gone far beyond election fraud to blatant disregard for human rights, as peaceful protesters are arrested, detained, beaten or killed. Censorship from the government has left only one avenue open for news from the ground, and that is Twitter, believe it or not. You won't find adequate coverage on CNN, which is where you always expected it, but rather in blogs such as Nico Pitney's, or by The Atlantic's Andrew Sullivan, who have spent days without sleep compiling personal posts received from hundreds of Iranian citizens. I strongly urge you to check either of these sites for a most comprehensive view of the history unfolding before us.

Going green has taken on a completely new meaning.

Why aren't you reading The Huffington Post? already Read more!

Date for Dickens?

Dicken's ultimate date?

A dog wears an attire by a designer during the Pets Fashion Week Russia in Moscow, May 31, 2009.
REUTERS/Alexander Natruskin

'Cuz I know this one doesn't do anything for me...

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My First Video Post!

No kitties were harmed in the making of this filmed. Read more!

Fan Mail and Response

Needless to say, my mailbox overflows daily with letters from both fans and critics of my blog entries. While it is uncommon for me to address them publicly, I felt this one warranted a more open response, as this writer's concern may be felt by others of late.

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Dear Ms. Dietrich,

Let me start by saying that I am a HUGE fan of your blog. I have read nearly through the entire thing by starting at the oldest post and reading backward to the most recent. I have read it all, from your exhilarating meeting with Chris Cornell (sorry about that "rabbit ears snafu) to the gut wrenching excerpts from your heretofore unpublished novel, Below Sea Level, which I look forward to reading just because it's your work even though I know the agony it will cause me. I feel like I know you so well though just at a distance, oh the painful distance.

The reason I am writing is the recent lack of activity on your blog. Surely you realize that your fan base has expectations of reading about your life everyday. I can only speak for myself when I say I understand that everyday is too much to ask but it has been nearly ten days since you've updated and I need more. Please provide the "cool beverage" your writing supplies for the terrible "thirst" I have for your life story. You must understand my need is driven by your incredible talent.

Your Sycophant,

D.W.

P.S. I met you once two years ago at Mounds in Sun Prairie, I was behind you in line. I was the guy buying the poop bags do you remember me? We didn't actually talk but I think we shared a glance.

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Dear Mr. D.W. and Readers,

I appreciate your devotion to my compositions and thank you for reading them so assiduously. Though I do not normally respond to personal missives (frankly, time does not permit me to address them on an individual basis) I felt that your feelings may be shared by others and therefore I have taken the liberty of printing your letter, along with my response. I hope this is acceptable to you.

I normally have three requisites for creating new prose: unrelenting quiet, significant stretches of solitude, and a certain degree of melancholy. I have recently had trouble attaining a workable level of each of these, much less all in concordance. Without these ingredients I am baking bread without yeast, cake without flour, brownies without chocolate.

My sweet peace and quiet has taken a beating recently as a result of a nearby neighbor erecting a large new play set and trampoline. Children from all over the neighborhood now flock to the site, and their squeals of delight are only barely concealed by the whirring of my air-conditioner. Needless to say, I find myself frequently praying for rain--a dubious response given my home's proclivity to flooding. Children aside, it is also the season of mowing, weed eating, and tree trimming. None of these has eased my aural suffering.

My solitude has not been seen in weeks, which surprises me more than anyone can imagine. As the weather improves I find myself more and more drawn to outings with my dear niece and her mother, primarily to visit my horses who, of course, deserve all the time I can afford them, as they are frequently neglected by me.

In addition to this, I have recently been reunited with a dear friend from my past with whom I hope to enjoy many a quiet afternoon, sometimes with horses, sometimes without. Other friends have been coming out of the woodwork since my sister convinced me to come out of hiding, as it were, and list myself publicly on that latest time waster, Facebook. Sadly, no agents yet among them.

As for the melancholy, it too has been a stranger of late, though I never see it disappear completely. (Should it do so I am convinced I should disappear right along with it, as it is so much a part of me.) I credit this to my recent acquaintance with a new gentleman friend. Though I have done my best to thwart his bold advances, he has made headway into my heart and thusly I have had more pleasant days than otherwise during the last several months. And as any seasoned writer knows, a miserable writer is a prolific one, while a happy writer is, well, an oxymoron.

The only thing in this writer's favor in terms of increased melancholy--and therefore increased literary output--is the fact that this new-found relationship rests almost entirely upon fate, as distance is a primary factor dictating its success or failure. As a traditional hermit-style writer, I no longer value travel, and this gentleman is many miles away, across the most insurmountable of obstacles known by some as Greater Chicago. Accordingly, we spend many pleasurable hours on the telephone each evening when normally I might be found staring morosely at my computer screen.

The gentleman in question has recently begun applying for positions at numerous teaching institutions, his art being culinary. Sadly, only a fraction of these posts would close the distance between us. Most would not only increase the distance, but also the time between us, as he is admirably ambitious and considering entry into graduate school. If this writer knows one thing, it is the vacuum of time, space, and finance that graduate school creates. It is no small miracle that I escaped intact some years ago, and I have seen it devour greater men than I. For a relationship to survive a grad school enrollment while both parties reside in the same city is no small feat, but to endure it at a distance is all but unheard of. Unfortunately, there is much more to a relationship than the number of free shared cellular minutes.

So lately I tread with a heavy heart, regardless of renewed friendships and my new gentleman friend. One is hard pressed at times like these to believe there is worth in leaving one's comfortable home, much less compose worthwhile new prose.

So let me now beg my readers' indulgence as I navigate this uncharted territory, and know that whatever happens shall certainly become fodder for any new material in the future.

Sincerely,

Nancy Dietrich

P.S. Mr. D.W., I'm afraid I do not remember our "encounter" at Mounds. While it is true I was a frequent patron of this establishment at the time you mention, of late I have found it necessary to send an aide for such errands due to time constraints. Perhaps we shall be fortunate enough to meet at a future book signing.


Lesson of the day: Be careful what you ask for. Read more!