Kith & Kin
Where's Teddy? is in the grips of the "terrible twos," & he can be a terror, but considering the difficulties associated with his age he really isn't all that terrible. We engaged in our most persistent game: mirroring bottles. As I am nearly always to be seen with my flip-top green water bottle, Where's Teddy? likes to have handy a sippy cup full of water—not milk, but water, like mine—& for the two of us to drink at the same time. He walk up to the armchair whee I was seated, by my leave flip open the top of my bottle, scurry to the far end of the adjoining couch where his sippy cup was resting on a small table, & then take a drink at the exact same time I did. We've been playing this game for at least a year, & the novelty's not yet worn off for him. We played lots of games both indoors & out, & I read to him his bedtime stories on both Saturday & Sunday nights. It's not Where's Teddy?'s fault he's a little savage, all Kinder are born such & it is the job of parents, sundry family, & eventually teachers to civilize the little monsters.

My wee niece Lucy has been assigned the code name "The Cupcake," inspired by a nickname given her by her father, mirroring the origin of The Squeak's code name. The Cupcake is only nine weeks-old & so yet evinces little in the way of personality, but she is mostly calm, fusses & cries not in excess, & sleeps like a champ. Not unexpectedly, I suppose, she bears a tremendous resemblance to Where's Teddy? at the same age. She looks so small, &yet she's grown so much since she was born; her legs are starting to become ham hocks & I have high hopes that she'll be quite the fat little chunk in the weeks & months ahead. I love fat babies & fat kitties, & I won't apologize for either.

Project MERCATOR
The Loose Ties played The Flint Local 432 last Saturday, but I was unable to attend as I was at Xanadu meeting The Cupcake & playing with Where's Teddy?. So, even though I was familiar with none of the bands playing at The Local on Friday, I went that night to show my support for the resurrected club. I am thrilled to report, dear readers, that the new Local is the same as the old Local: a bare-bones monument to the D.I.Y. spirit & a no-pressure environment for younglings to learn the difference 'twixt playing music together & performing as a band. I was joined by my pal-cum-acolyte Ska Army, due to spend both Friday & Saturday nights there. In between two bands, Ska Army asked if I wanted to nip over to one of the nearby public houses for "a pint;" respectful of The Local's stance as a substance-free zone—'tis an all-ages venue, after all—, I instead proposed that we get that pint after the evening's music concluded. When that moment arrived we repaired to The Torch, where I had a pint & Ska Army had two pints & a meal, leading me to believe I'd been brought there under a mild pretense. A good time was had by all, his delay simply kept me out slightly later than I'd intended, a small annoyance since I was to awake early the next morrow & motor to Xanadu.

Objective SCHWEDEN | Project GLOWWORM
I was in a position to take my daily constitutional today for the first time since Friday last. Four days on followed by four days off, but at least now May's days on outnumber the days off five to four. Fearful that the sweat of my daily constitutional would bring my pith helmet to an early grave, & yet needing a shield against the death rays of the Accursed Sun, I've acquired a broad-brimmed straw hat. I fully intend to drive this hat into the ground in the course of the next several months, but hesitated to wear it today due to a steady rain; I saw no sense in having it potentially ruined by the rain before it had the chance to fulfill its purpose as a personal parasol. So, I went out into the rain without a hat, the drops feeling nicely refreshing on my only lightly fuzzed scalp. I'd not gone more than a block, though, when the rain ceased, & within a couple more blocks the clouds had parted to unleash the fury of the Accursed Sun. When will I learn not to go out of doors without a hat? When I least think I need it is when I am most vulnerable & thus most likely to be in need of headgear! I got a little sun yesterday (a forthcoming "Vote for Kodos"), so today's didn't make much of a difference, but I learned a valuable lesson. I wish to preserve the pith helmet from the daily grind of the daily constitutional's sweat, & I wish to preserve the wide-brimmed straw hat from the capricious rain; thus, the straw hat on sunny days & the helmet on rainy days (of which Michigan's spring & summer have their share).

I won't take the daily constitutional on Friday if the yard's dry enough to be mowed, since what is mowing but a long walk—albeit a long walk behind an infernal machine & amidst the irksome odor of freshly-cut grass?

The Queue
"Baa Baa, Black Sheep" alone would have more than justified the reading of The Man who would be King and Other Stories, but there were other gems betwixt its covers, such as the eponymous "The Man who would be King," "Only a Subaltern," & "In Flood Time," et al. I skipped "With the Main Guard" & "Black Jack" entirely because, as the twin tales feature Kipling's famous "Three Musketeers"—Mulvaney, Learoyd, & Ortheris—, the tales are written largely in dialect; I couldn't stomach that sort of writing years ago when I aborted reading Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting, & I've still not acquired the knack. My faith in the master has been restored entirely, my grousing about his earlier tales having proved to be grousing about the writing of a young author (only in his early twenties) learning his craft on the fly. I look forward to reading the next Kipling volume sitting on my bookshelf, The Jungle Books.

I've been meaning to read Nicolas Sarkozy's political autobiography/treatise ever since "Sarko l'Américain" was elected President of the French Republic in '07. Now that he's about to be replaced by François Hollande (& Europe is about to be set ablaze, to the detriment of us all), I've been jolted into action. I've also been meaning to read Lush Life since Mrs. Skeeter, Esq. loaned it me in '10, though I cannot point to any specific reason why I decided to read it now. The august Mr. Burroughs will keep a little while longer, & his Barsoom will still be there in all its splendor when I'm through with Messers. Sarkozy et Price.

Recently
Steve Martin, An Object of Beauty
Steve Martin, The Ten, Make That Nine, Habits of Very Organized People. Make That Ten.: The Tweets of Steve Martin
Rudyard Kipling, The Man who would be King and Other Stories

Currently
Nicolas Sarkozy, translated from the French by Philip H. Gordon, Testimony: France, Europe, and the World in the Twenty-first Century

Presently
Richard Price, Lush Life
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Gods of Mars
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Warlord of Mars
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Thuvia, Maid of Mars

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Folksmen, "Blood On the Coal" from A Mighty Wind: The Album (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Blood on the tracks, blood in the mine,
Brothers and sisters, what a terrible time!
Old Ninety-seven went in the wrong hole,
Now in mine number sixty there's blood on the coal,
Blood on the coal, blood on the coal."